


Sol y futbol

by mar15



Category: Football RPF
Genre: I've tagged SG/FT but they are CHILDREN in this fic- it's just puppy love!, Kid!Sergio, M/M, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, kid!Fernando, non-football au, with still lots of football
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 05:45:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 49,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3717343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mar15/pseuds/mar15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David trips over five-year-old Sergio and into the Casillas family's life.  Featuring parental Iker, Sergio and Fernando as soulmated little terrors, and fashionable David.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me as one of those ‘hah, they would though, won’t they?’ thoughts when I was reading homework before the Real Madrid match last weekend. I thought I'd scribble down a thousand words or so to get it out of my head. And then it got…massive. This will be long and Iker and David will probably just be friends for a pretty long time, too.  
> Why Sergio? Because…he’s just Sergio like that. Haven’t you noticed he gets everywhere?  
> Also someone PLEASE PLEASE suggest me a real title because I can't think them up to save my life! The word doc on my laptop is called 'strawberry ice cream' ffs!!  
> POSTING SCHEDULE: there won't be one, because my 'class/work/sport/watch sport' schedule's too erratic for that. Lo siento.

David meets Sergio first, and the first time they meet, he nearly kills him- twice.

Everyone he works with is boring, so whenever he can, David leaves the office at lunch. He doesn’t like to go to restaurants because he’s always thought it looks kind of sad to eat alone, so he buys some sandwiches and fruit or brings a packed lunch and finds somewhere outside to eat. Madrid has plenty of parks and squares, many near his office building, and there’s usually some kind of sport or demonstration to watch.

Today, flamenco dancers fill the square he’s chosen, dancing on a stage set up in the middle with banners behind them saying something about Sevillana cultural preservation.

David settles on an empty bench and peels the plastic off his cheese sandwiches. The blaring music isn’t really to his taste but the swirling dancers and their rapid-fire heel clicks are interesting to watch. For a little while, anyway. By the time his sandwiches are gone and he’s halfway through his orange, he’s grown a little bored and started watching the crowd as much as the dancers. David smiles when he catches sight of a suntanned, long-haired boy, four or five years old, jumping around and stomping at the front of the crowd as he ‘dances’ along to the music.

Suddenly the music stops, the dancers leave the stage, and the crowd begins to disperse. The show’s over. David stands and gathers his wrappers and orange peel to throw them away. On his walk to the nearest trash bin, he spots the dark-haired boy again, now chewing on his fingers and watching the square slowly empty around him. David frowns. Where are the kid’s parents? A quick glance confirms that there are no adults nearby either heading in the boy’s direction or looking like they might be trying to find a lost child. David tosses his trash in the bin and walks up to the boy, smiling when their eyes meet.

‘Hello,’ he says, putting his hands in his pockets, trying to sound friendly and not like a kidnapper. ‘Have you lost your parents?’

The boy tilts his head. Then he laughs with a great blinding gap-toothed grin. ‘Your voice sounds funny!’

If the kid were any less cute David would be insulted, but he’s saved by floppy hair and big brown eyes. David smiles. ‘I’m from England,’ he says. ‘Do you know where that is? I learned how to speak English before I learned Spanish. That’s why I sound different.’

The boy says ‘ _oh_ ’ very solemnly, but his eyes are still bright and laughing. ‘I’m Sergio Casillas Ramos,’ he says proudly, and he lisps a little bit because of the missing bottom tooth. ‘My papa said we couldn’t come to see the music when I heard it because he’s busy so I came.’

David sighs. He has nieces and nephews. Child logic is not new. ‘Hello, Sergio. My name’s David,’ he says, and has to crouch down and try not to laugh when Sergio insists on very carefully shaking his hand. ‘Where’s your papa then, lad?’

Sergio shrugs and twists the hem of his faded yellow t-shirt around his fingers. ‘He’s working.’

‘Where is he working?’ David tries.

Sergio shrugs again and looks around the square, clearly getting bored now that there are no dancers and David isn’t being very entertaining.

David sighs again. He’ll be late back to the office if he doesn’t get on his way, but he can’t just leave a lost child alone, either. ‘Alright. Which way did you walk from when you came here?’

Sergio beams again. He grabs two of David’s fingers in his sticky little hands and shakes them from side to side, hanging off his arm to look across the square. ‘You should come see! There’s a store that has a bird cage in the window and I looked at it and one of the birds came up and it chirped at me really loud and-‘

David shepherds the bouncing boy along and Sergio chatters all the way to the edge of the street, where they stop to wait for a break in the cars passing. _At least the kid knows where he’s going, even if he doesn’t know how to talk about it_ , David thinks. _Bright lad_. Suddenly, someone in the crowd passing behind them knocks sharply into David’s back. He’s pushed forward- tripping right over Sergio, who’s standing in front of him, and who stumbles out into the street, falling to his hands and knees just inches away from the rolling wheels of a passing car as the horn blares.

David feels his heart stop and then pound wildly as he lunges out and snatches Sergio up off the ground, crushing the boy tightly to his chest as he rushes back to the edge of the square where they’re safe. Sergio clutches David’s shirt tightly in his small fists and his face is pale. ‘Jesus _fucking_ Christ! Thank God,’ he mutters, shifting the boy to one hip and running his free hand over the child’s trembling body and smoothing back his long, messy hair from his wide eyes. ‘Are you alright, sweetheart?’

Sergio doesn’t speak, but he lifts one hand to show David his skinned palm. David kisses his fingertips, grateful beyond words and shaking from his momentary certainty that he was watching the boy fall under the car. ‘Okay. Okay. Let’s get you cleaned up, alright, love? We’ll clean you up and take you home.’

Sergio tucks his head into David’s shoulder and he sniffles and whines a little as they walk to an ice cream stand, but he doesn’t cry and David pats his back in praise. He asks the ice cream seller for a bottle of water and a few napkins, sets Sergio down on a bench, and carefully cleans the scraped hands and knees, gently picking out bits of gravel and telling Sergio how wonderfully brave and tough he’s being. When he’s all done, Sergio holds out his hands again.

‘Do they hurt?’ David asks, crouched down so they’re the same height.

‘Kiss,’ Sergio tells him, like it’s obvious. ‘Papa always kisses at the end when I get hurt.’

‘Ah.’ David drops four light kisses and Sergio settles back in satisfaction. Then, trying to convince himself that he _isn’t_ trying to bribe the lad to keep quiet about almost getting run over on his watch, he says, ‘Do you think you should have an ice cream for putting up with all of that so well?’

‘Yeah!’

‘What kind?’

‘Strawberry, please!’

David keeps Sergio close to his side with a hand on his head as they wait for the strawberry ice cream cone. Then, giving in to the pressing thought that this particular boy would probably manage to run into trouble anywhere, he hoists the kid back up onto his hip and sets off back the way they’d started, holding him so close he squeaks as they cross the street. ‘Which way do we go to get to your papa, love?’

‘Umm…that way.’

Buoyed by the treat, Sergio quickly returns to chattering cheerfully and pointing out everything they passed, dripping ice cream down David’s shirt as he waves his hands in infectious enthusiasm. He offers the slobbery ice cream cone to David a number of times, too, utterly bewildered that David hadn’t bought one for himself and trying helpfully to share. Finally they come to a park and Sergio squirms to be let down. David holds on tightly. ‘Is your papa here?’

‘He’s…there. _Papa_!’ Sergio bellows the last word impossibly loudly for such a small person and David feels suddenly deaf in his left ear. A young man in athletic clothes with Sergio’s dark hair but fairer skin, standing on the side of the football pitch, turns around and stares at them. His jaw drops.

‘Sergio! What- who-’ The man runs to them and snatches Sergio into his arms, backing up a few steps and glaring warily at David as he pets his son’s head. David holds up his hands.

‘I found him in the square,’ he says quickly. ‘Watching the flamenco performance.’ The man sighs and presses his face to Sergio’s hair.

‘Sergio,’ he groans. ‘Nene, how many times have I told you not to wander off?’

‘Like a _million_. Papa, you’re squashing my ice cream!’

Sergio’s father quickly loosens his hold. Then he stares at the nearly-finished ice cream cone. ‘Sergio,’ he says. ‘Sergio, that ice cream is pink.’

‘Yep,’ Sergio says, licking at it unconcernedly. David frowns. Is this one of _those_ fathers, phobic of anything that might make their sons look girlish?

‘Sergio, is that strawberry ice cream?’

‘Yep.’ Sergio scowls. ‘You _never_ let me eat strawberries anymore. Even when ‘Nando gets ‘em. Señor David doesn’t say I can’t.’

Then David feels a dawning sense of dread. He meets the man’s resigned gaze. ‘My son didn’t mention that he is allergic to strawberries, did he?’

David swears.

>>> 

It turns out that Sergio isn’t anaphylactic-allergic, thank Christ. But Iker, his papa, tells David as they retrieve a bottle of allergy medicine from Iker’s car that the poor lad will start to have a stomach ache soon that will probably last until morning. As long as he stays hydrated, he’ll be fine, and won’t need to see a doctor.

David, spurred by the knowledge that he’d managed to try to kill this man’s child twice within twenty minutes of knowing him, quickly offers his services as a caretaker. Iker is at the park coaching a local youth football team, and Sergio is usually happy to run with other children on the playground, but this time he’ll need to lie down and rest until Iker is finished in half an hour.

‘But don’t you need to go back to work?’

‘They won’t mind if I leave early,’ David assures him. ‘I’m a marketer. Most of my work is digital designing or developing pitch ideas, I can do that on my laptop anywhere.’

‘I can just call a friend,’ Iker says doubtfully.

‘Please,’ David says. ‘It’s my fault, after all. He can sit with me on the side of the pitch and I’ll keep him quiet and drinking water until you’re done.’

‘If you can keep him quiet for half an hour, you’re a saint,’ Iker mutters. Sergio grumbles a disgruntled ‘ _Papa!’_ and kicked out but Iker shifts away from his son’s feet like a well-accustomed pro. Iker looks over his shoulder at the teenagers milling around on the pitch. In English, he continues, ‘You really don’t mind? And you swear you’re not a kidnapper or murderer?’

David places a hand over his heart. ‘Not a kidnapper or murderer,’ he promises, also in English. ‘Not even my nephews when they’ve had too much sugar.’

Iker smiles, and David notices that it isn’t nearly as big or bright as Sergio’s, but it’s nice. Sergio definitely did get his big brown eyes from his father, though, and they crinkle warmly when Iker’s lips turn up. ‘The most important question, then,’ he says, mock-seriously. ‘For the safety of my son: who are you with, Real Madrid or Barcelona?’

David is startled into a bark of laughter. ‘The important things, right?’ He grins and thumps a hand on his heart again. ‘Siempre Madridista, mate. If that’s a problem….’

Iker smiles and kisses his son’s hair again. He switches back to Spanish. ‘Okay, my little gypsy, can you be good and sit with Señor David for a little while?’

Sergio rolls his eyes, clearly still cranky that Iker had taken the last of his ice cream away. ‘I don’t feel sick!’

‘Sergio.’

‘ _Okay._ ’

Within fifteen minutes, Sergio is curled up in David’s lap, clutching his belly unhappily as David runs fingers through his thick sweaty hair and tells him stories about England. Sergio seems to think that anywhere that isn’t Madrid, Barcelona, or Sevilla must be a completely different world, and David is sure that if he tells him there are dragons flying over London the boy won’t even be surprised.

Iker finally returns and scoops Sergio gingerly up into his arms, throwing David an apologetic look. ‘Thank you for watching him,’ he says, shifting Sergio to rest comfortably against his shoulder. ‘I swear, he disappears like a magician. I’ve tried to leave him with babysitters, but he looks at me like I’m abandoning him forever when I leave the house and then always runs away from them to follow me. And my parents live in Àvila, so.’ He shrugs, and David sees where Sergio picked up the gesture.

‘So,’ David repeats. Iker very clearly hadn’t mentioned Sergio’s mother, and he isn’t wearing any rings, so David doesn’t ask. ‘Look, I still feel responsible for Sergio being sick. Can I get you dinner tonight? You don’t have to trust my cooking, since you still have only my word that I won’t drug you and steal your son away,’ he says with a wink, and Iker laughs softly. ‘But you’ll probably be up with him all night, right? I can bring you some takeaway and whatever medicine you need.’

Iker eyes him speculatively. Sergio has collapsed, limp in misery, against his chest. ‘You don’t have to,’ he says.

‘I know. I want to, though.’

Sergio grumbles and curls in over his stomach, and Iker rubs circles on his back. ‘It would be nice if you could get us some apple juice,’ Iker says finally. ‘And some of the roasted potatoes from the deli section? The big plastic container? Sese usually will eat those when he’s sick.’

Iker gives David their address and watches as he sets it into the GPS on his phone, insisting again that he doesn’t have to help. David waves him off. ‘I want to,’ he repeats. ‘Any preferences for our dinner?’

Iker ducks his head and turns away a little. ‘Whatever you want, I like anything,’ he mutters, but he’s smiling. When he meets David’s eyes again, they catch, and David feels his grin growing as the pause lengthens.

‘Pa _pa_ ,’ Sergio moans, kicking at Iker’s hips. ‘I wanna go _home_.’

‘Sorry, cariño. We’re going now.’ Iker smiles apologetically and waves, heading to his car. ‘We’ll see you soon?’

David waves back and thumbs-ups.


	2. Chapter 2

David follows his GPS to the doorstep of a small red house with a tidy front yard in a neighbourhood of similar homes. There is a neat border of native grasses along the pavement and another along the wall of the house, and a child’s bicycle left lying in the lawn, upturned training wheel spinning in the breeze.

Iker answers after the third round of knocking. They’d only parted ways about half an hour before, but he already looks somehow both utterly frazzled and completely in control. He’d changed his track jacket to a grey t-shirt with ragged hems.

‘Sorry,’ he sighs, taking the carrier bags from David’s hands and ushering him inside. ‘Sergio was alright until I picked him up out of the car- then he threw up down my back. It hasn’t really stopped since then.’ On cue, there comes the sound of retching from another room. Iker grimaces. ‘Wonderful atmosphere to share dinner, no? Just kick your shoes off here, kitchen’s on the left, tv’s on the right.’ And he hurries through a doorway towards the sound of Sergio’s whimpers.

David toes off his shoes and nudges them against the wall, joining a jumble of men’s trainers and boots. Tiny Sergio-sized trainers and flip flops are mixed in, half-buried. He peers in at the kitchen and sitting rooms, both clean and fairly tidy but clearly the home of a single man and a whirlwind child. Dishes are stacked in the strainer and toys are piled up in out-of-the-way corners. Yellow and light blue walls, no curtains over the windows. The furniture is simple and sturdy and nothing breakable is less than three feet off the ground. David’s fingers itch to organise, and he has to make himself turn determinedly away from a short cabinet topped with a crowd of framed photographs. He would have liked to steal a peek at the people who are probably Sergio and Iker’s family, maybe see if he can identify the missing mother; but the urge to straighten is too strong, and he knows that if he gets any closer, he’ll have the frames in a perfect grid in a heartbeat.

He can hear Iker’s quiet voice through the doorway he’d taken, and follows, into another short hallway lined with more photos on the walls. Two doors are closed, but one is open. David can see Sergio curled up in a small bed with a green football pitch-patterned duvet, Iker in a wooden rocking chair pulled up to the side. He knocks lightly on the door and smiles sympathetically at Sergio. ‘How’re you feeling, champ?’

‘I want ice cream,’ Sergio whines piteously. ‘You says I could have ice cream for being good and that one doesn’t count ‘cus I didn’t get to keep it.’

Iker looks faintly disgusted. David bites his lip to hold back a chuckle. ‘Sure,’ he says. ‘Soon as you feel better I'll get you another one, okay? And we’ll check with your papa first about the flavour.’

Sergio moans and rolls over. Iker strokes down his arm and stands up, pouring apple juice from one of the bottles in the carrier bags at his feet into a glass on the nightstand. ‘Your juice is here, nene,’ he says softly, and kisses Sergio’s cheek. ‘I’ll be right out there with David, okay? Call me if you need anything.’

Sergio mumbles but doesn’t move, so Iker ushers David out of the room after grabbing the carrier bags and flipping on a small stereo that begins to play Spanish lullabies.

‘God, I feel so bad about this,’ David mutters, following Iker into the kitchen. ‘I’m really sorry I got him sick.’

Iker waves a hand, shoving the container of roast potatoes into the fridge. David has to twist his hands together behind his back when he sees the chaos of vegetables, sport drinks, and blocks of cheese. ‘It’s not your fault.  I thought Sergio understood by now that strawberries make him sick. I should be thanking you for bringing him back safe. It’s a miracle that he hasn't been kidnapped or hit by a car or something yet.’

David chews his lip guiltily. ‘Yeah.’

‘Are you hungry or do you want to watch tv or something for a while before I put this in the oven?’ Iker waggles the frozen pizza he’d picked up at him. David shrugs.

‘Whatever’s fine with me. Did I get the right apple juice? I know some parents are fanatic about what kind their kid drinks.’ He’d gone with local organic no-sugar-added ultra-pasteurised just to be on the safe side. Six sodding euros per fancy glass bottle, but at least there shouldn’t be anything to complain about, even if Iker turned out to be just such a fanatic.

‘It’s fine. Apple juice actually always makes him feel sicker when he has a stomach ache, but for some reason it’s the only thing he wants to drink, and I don’t want him to get dehydrated.’ Iker holds out his hands in a _what can you do?_ gesture.

David shakes his head. ‘Kids, mate.’

>>> 

They end up finding a Bundesliga match on the telly just as the pizza is about to come out of the oven. Iker clearly knows and loves his football just as much as David does, and the game is tight enough to keep his mind off the uneven row of knickknacks on the shelf above the tv. The talking is easy, about their favourite clubs and their jobs and plenty of proud words from Iker about his son.

David gets up the courage during a commercial break to explain why Sergio had come back with scrapes and bruises. He doesn’t want Sergio saying something later, after all- from his experience with children, the lad would innocently manage to make David sound as horrible and guilty as possible.

Iker, of course, had already noticed Sergio’s scabbed hands and knees, but chalked it up to an accident on the playground. He just shakes his head and mutters darkly about putting Sergio on a lead, leaving David in the clear.

He’s glad. He doesn’t have many close friends in Madrid, and an easy-going, football-playing guy around the same age as himself would be a nice mate to have about. As long as Iker isn’t actually upset that they’d only met because David had nearly done away with his treasured child, at least.

Sergio wanders in with twenty minutes left on the clock and clambers onto the sofa, curling up like a floppy-limbed puppy in his dad’s lap with his cheek resting on Iker’s knee. He hadn’t thrown up since David arrived, but he figures that’s only because there’s nothing left in the poor lad’s belly.

‘You want some potatoes?’ Iker asks quietly, rubbing his back in long strokes.

Sergio shakes his head and nestles down. David pats his ankle.

‘Tough kid,’ he says, encouragingly.

Sergio stares at the screen. A player is charging around the pitch with his arms thrown up in triumph. ‘Who’s that?’

‘Dortmund and Cologne,’ Iker tells him. ‘They’re clubs in Germany.’

Sergio watches silently for a moment. ‘I’m gonna be better than he is when I grow up,’ he says, with the same kind of simple truth David would use to say _the sun is yellow_.

‘If that’s what you want, nene,’ Iker murmurs.

Sergio peers over at David, and he smiles, patting the boy’s foot again.

‘’Course you will, kid.’


	3. Chapter 3

It feels a little bit like stalking, but by taking his lunches an hour or two later than usual and always heading straight to the park, David quickly works out when Iker is there. Some days he waves hello if he catches Iker’s eye, and the coach always smiles and waves back. Other days he stays just long enough to spot the scruffy hair and red track jacket, then sidles quickly away so that Iker doesn’t think he really _is_ a stalker.

Sergio is usually there when Iker is, and that changes his plans. He’d thought he might just keep up his passing and waving for a while until enough time has passed that it won’t feel weird to invite Iker to go see a match or something, and then maybe a drink with a few of the guys from work that he gets along with, and there- he’d have a friend who isn’t a colleague or just interested in bar-hopping, like most of the blokes he’d met so far. But Sergio is a pint-sized force of nature.

David finds that he spends as much time looking for the boy as he does for his dad- because when he _is_ there, David usually manages to spot him just when he's being tackled viciously to the ground by one of the bigger boys he kicks a small football with, or clambering along the top bar of the swing set with his feet dangling ten feet above the ground (and _how the hell did he even get up there?_ ).

He never has to step in, because Sergio seems to have the same uncanny knack for getting himself out of situations as getting into them, but he honestly isn’t sure how Iker avoids the irresistible temptation to just wrap his son in cotton wool and leave him tied safely to a tree.

Knowing Sergio, the tree would just fall down.

The first time he notices that Sergio _isn’t_ in sight, he can’t help worrying that the kid might’ve wandered off again, and hurries to the sideline of the pitch to alert Iker.

That time, Iker already knows, and points over to where the boy is chasing pigeons on the other side of the park.  David offers to drag him back to the nearer fields and considers doing it literally.

The next time, Sergio really isn't in sight, and he assures Iker that he’ll have a look round the block before they both panic too badly.  He finds Sergio two streets away, happily helping an old couple plant flowers in their garden and chattering their ears off.

They think Sergio is adorable, with his sunny gap-toothed smile and good manners and messy hair. They might’ve been old, those two, but David has the distinct feeling that if he weren’t quite so tall and well-built they’d’ve put up a dirty fight. He insists on carrying the boy back to the park and maybe squeezes him a little too tightly, because he smells like grass and clean clothes and summer, and will apparently never stop giving David heart attacks.

So, because of Sergio and the fact that David can’t concentrate at his desk when his mind throws up images of every scrap a beautiful, trouble magnet of a boy like Sergio could possibly be getting into, he starts bringing in his laptop and taking long lunches, setting himself up at a picnic table in the park for the few hours that Iker is usually there. He can eat, do his work, and jump up to corral Sergio back to the playground whenever he spots the dark head beelining for the street.

‘I feel like I should be paying you,’ Iker says one afternoon, taking the seat on the other side of the picnic table and waving goodbye to parents of his players. ‘You’re doing better work than any of the babysitters ever did, and I paid them.’

David is exhausted. He’s had to go after Sergio fully seven times that day, and the last four were at an all-out sprint, Sergio giggling and shrieking as he hurtled ahead of him as fast as his little legs could go like he thought they were playing tag. At one point he clamped the lad in his lap and tried to convince him that he needed a nap, but Sergio just laughed and wriggled away. He flips Iker the bird and takes a long drink of his soda. ‘I’m invested now. I can’t sit at work knowing your demon-child son is out terrorising the city. Has he always been this bad about staying where he’s told?’

‘Oh, no,’ Iker says. They watch Sergio swinging across the monkey bars and wince together as he misses one and crash-lands in the woodchips in a heap. He pops up right away, though, and races off like nothing happened. ‘Sese usually wants to be wherever I am. He only went off from here a few times before the one when you brought him back.’ Iker twists to throw him a smirk. ‘But he thinks you’re cool because you have tattoos and you’re from England, and you give him attention when he tries to run away, so.’

David stares at Sergio with new appreciation. ‘Manipulative little shit,’ he marvels.

Iker laughs. ‘Seriously, though,’ he says. ‘If you’re not here to play with him, he won’t run. You don’t have to keep skipping work.’

David chews his lip. They’re sort of mates now, just like he wanted, even if he hadn’t planned on getting there by turning into a child-minder. ‘I don’t mind,’ he says. ‘It’s good to get outside.’

Iker nods seriously. ‘Good for your pasty English skin.’

David casually shakes his can with his thumb over the hole and sprays soda at him.

>>> 

His weeks go on like that, and David doesn’t mind. Sergio, being alarmingly clever and devious, stops running off when he discovers that he can get even _more_ attention from David if he just smiles brightly and asks for it, because David is a pushover, and he melts and pulls Sergio in for a cuddle every time those dancing brown eyes turn on him.

Iker spends a lot of time glancing over and laughing at him, and Sergio gets a lot of ice cream.

David always spends at least five minutes demanding that the vendor make sure whatever flavour Sergio picks out hasn’t been anywhere near anything with strawberries.

They’re just getting to the height of summer and David finds it harder and harder to concentrate on his work on these beautiful afternoons. He lets Sergio draw more tattoos on his arms and legs with marker, because the boy is completely fascinated with his ink.  He starts teaching Sergio a few simple words and phrases in English, rolling in the grass with laughter at the kid’s terrible accent. He teaches Sergio tricks and juggling with his football so he can show off to Iker at the end of practise, and claps encouragingly when Sergio insists on trying to perfect a bicycle kick that always just ends with the boy falling flat on his back and missing the ball completely.

He’s never minded kids. He’s never been crazy about them, either, but Sergio is just a little ball of sunshine who utterly adores him, and it stokes his ego a little bit when Sergio’s face lights up every time he sees him like David is the coolest person in the world. The way he wails out made-up flamenco songs as he stomps around in a made-up dance is the funniest thing David’s ever seen, and the way he keeps claiming he’ll be the best footballer ever makes David think he might really do it, and it’s simple to see himself there on the side of the pitch throwing an arm around teenaged Sergio’s shoulders when he brings Spain to victory with a ridiculous bicycle kick goal.

Then he and Iker will probably go to a bar and cry about _wherever had the adorable, evil, giggly little Sese gone?_ like pathetic old men.

Christ, he needs to get laid.

‘ _Papa, watch this!’_ Sergio shouts in English one afternoon as Iker makes his way over, and kicks the ball up off his heel, then bounces it off his forehead almost a dozen times before he misses and it falls to the ground.

Iker applauds and hugs his son. Then he eyes David, interested. ‘I really _should_ be paying you, shouldn’t I?’

David doesn’t pause to think. ‘Let me come over on Saturday?’ he suggests. ‘I want to watch the Man U match and you have more channels than I do.’

Iker’s lip curls in distaste. ‘I guess I should buy pizza as well to make us even for last time,’ he says, and he sounds annoyed, but David knows it’s just his disdain for English football. ‘What time will you come over?’

Sergio suddenly realises what they’re talking about, and he lets out an excited shriek so loud and shrill that David drops his soda can to cover his ears. Iker, somehow, looks completely unfazed.

>>> 

So afternoons are for the park, and weekends come to be for catching up on the Premier League, and soon enough they have a standing assumption that he’ll be knocking on the door of the small red house whenever Real Madrid is playing. David has a friend he can call to bitch about work or ask about restaurants. Iker seems grateful, if anything, and David gets the impression that being a devoted single parent puts a damper on most of his friendships. He supposes most blokes in their twenties don’t expect their football night to be crashed by someone knee-high and demanding, let alone act happy about it.

Sergio, who Iker likes to joke is ready to trade his papa in for David any day, gets more attention than ever in his life, and practically vibrates with glee every time he races ahead of Iker’s shouts of _Sergio, don’t open the damn door on your own!!_ to let him inside.


	4. Chapter 4

_‘Hello?’_

‘Hi, good morning, Iker? It’s David. Beckham. From the park.’

_‘And from my house two days ago.’_

‘…Yeah.’

_‘When you tried to corrupt and violate my precious son.’_

‘Look, can you not say it like that, please? I’m at work and I don’t know if they monitor the phones.’

_‘Good. They’ll know what a horrible influence you are on innocent children.’_

‘It was just a headband! He’s always pushing his hair out of his eyes when he plays, I thought it would stop him running into things!’

_‘It says ‘Manchester United’ on it. I don’t want that on his head. What if it seeps into his brain through osmosis?’_

‘You know, I only rang up to apologise that I won’t be at the park today, but I suppose you’re pleased my evil English clutches will be far away from your son.’

_‘Oh, is something wrong?’_

‘No, just a lunchtime meeting. Tell Sergio I’m sorry, since you don’t care.’

‘ _He’ll be heartbroken.’_

‘Oh…tell him I’ll bring him some of those honey cake things next time, okay?’

_‘He only likes you because you give him sugar.’_

>>> 

David brings the honey cakes. He also brings a red bandana, a black plastic Alice band, and a white headband from the Real Madrid store, for variety. He presents them all to Iker, who just scoffs and pretends to throw them back at him but when David ducks Iker slips the headband neatly over Sergio's wild hair before sending him off to play.

>>> 

‘Beckham, marketing.’

_‘Hi, it’s Iker. Are you busy?’_

David rolls his eyes and slouches in his desk chair, tucking his hair back to press the phone to his ear. ‘Incredibly busy. I’m drowning in business. So much _busy_ today that I can hardly get up the energy to finish this game of Solitaire.’

Iker chuckles. _‘I’m glad to hear you’re being productive. Are you busy this Sunday, then?’_

‘Why, what’s going on Sunday?’

‘ _One of the refs for my league is sick,_ ’ Iker says, and he sounds apologetic. ‘ _They’ve asked me to cover. But Sergio’s best friend Fernando is staying over Saturday night- Sese’s probably told you all about him a thousand times-‘_

‘His soulmate ‘Nando, yeah. I actually feel kind of creepy, knowing so much about a kid I’ve never met.’

 _‘Too creepy to babysit for real?’_ Iker asks hopefully. ‘ _He isn’t supposed to get picked up until afternoon, and the game is in the morning. It’s too early to drag them along, and Sergio’s told Fernando’s mama so much about you that she won’t mind you taking care of them for a few hours. And Sergio would love to introduce you to Fernando finally.’_

David thinks for a moment. ‘You know I’ll always take Sergio,’ he says. ‘What’s Fernando like for real, though? Am I gonna have two Sergios running around bringing the house down?’

‘ _I really will pay you this time,’_ Iker says, and David is uncomfortably certain that that means ‘yes.’

>>> 

Iker says he needs to leave the house by seven Sunday morning, so David pulls up at 6:30, thinking he can help Iker on his way out and maybe press him for more information on Sergio’s beloved Fernando. The door is unlocked so he lets himself in, not wanting to knock in case the boys are still asleep, and finds Iker in the kitchen, drinking coffee from a mug and pouring the rest of the pot into a thermos.

‘Sorry,’ Iker says, waving the coffee pot. ‘You’ll have to make yourself some more. And you’ll need it, those two didn’t stop whispering and giggling until after midnight but they always seem to feed off each other’s energy- they’ll be up and wide awake soon.’

David goes to set his backpack in the sitting room- he’s learned that, when Sergio is around, a change of clothes usually comes in handy- and peeks into Sergio’s room on his way back to the kitchen. The door is cracked open just enough to see one big lump under the covers, with one dark and one light head pressed together on one pillow.

‘They look sweet,’ he tells Iker with a smile, spooning grounds into the coffee maker as Iker packed notes and squad rosters into his bag. ‘Sergio told me they’re going to get married when they grow up.’ It had been one afternoon in the park, and Sergio said it just like he says he’ll win the World Cup for Spain.

David believes him.

‘I know,’ Iker says, with a long-suffering expression. ‘I try not to think about it.’

David frowns. Iker catches it and shakes his head.

‘Not because it’s a boy, or Fernando,’ he clarifies. ‘Just, I have a feeling they’ll just propose to each other on Sergio’s eighteenth birthday and go out the next day with matching rings, because that’s the way the world works for them, and Sergio won’t ever really understand why other people aren’t as happy about it as he is. He’ll always think that love is love, and love is always beautiful.’

‘Aww, your little romantic,’ David says affectionately.

‘My little romantic,’ Iker says with a sigh. ‘Who’s going to grow up tall and strong and probably really good at punching people in the face because they’ll pick on shy Fernando first. Are you okay? You know where everything is? I put Sergio’s allergy medicine in the bathroom on the counter in case he somehow finds a strawberry, and the doctor’s phone number and Fernando’s mama’s phone number are on the fridge, and you have my cell phone number, and I put down the doctor and the hospital’s addresses just in case. There are footballs and toys in the back yard, and they can have cereal for breakfast but they’ll probably be hungry around eleven so if I’m not back yet I put some things for their lunch on the top shelf in the fridge. Take whatever you want for you. If they run away you can call the local police-‘

‘Iker,’ David interrupts, and he hops up to sit on the counter, sitting on his hands so he won’t take away one of the spice jars in their little rack to make it an even number. ‘I’m here at least once a week, I know where everything is. I’ve been watching Sergio most afternoons for a couple of months now and I haven’t lost or maimed or starved him yet, have I?’

‘Sorry.’ Iker puts up his hands and smiles ruefully. ‘I’m not very good at not being the person in control.’

‘I noticed,’ David says wryly. ‘Come on, I always take good care of Sese, don’t I? How hard can one more be?’

A strange look comes over Iker’s face. ‘You do, don’t you?’ he says slowly, and for a long moment, they don’t move.

>>> 

Fernando Torres Sanz is six, a year older than Sergio, and he looks like a lanky little angel with his sweet, shy smile and dousing of freckles. But there’s a calculating gleam in his big doe eyes that David is immediately wary of. He’s seen that look on Sergio right before he tries a new tactic to beg Iker for something he wants but knows he shouldn’t have- like last week, when he pleaded for a hi-tech trick bike he’d seen another kid riding, despite still using training wheels on his own little bike.

Iker never caves. David already knows he won’t stand a chance.

The boys stumble out not long after Iker leaves, leaning on each other’s shoulders and rubbing at their eyes as they let out massive, face-splitting yawns. David is standing at the kitchen counter, pouring out glasses of milk, and Sergio catches sight of him first. His sleepy smile is one of the sweetest things David has ever seen and he smiles back helplessly as Sergio ambles over quietly, leaning against his legs and raising his arms to be picked up. David hoists the lad onto his hip and cuddles the warm little body close shamelessly, wondering when the bloody hell this Sergio-shaped space in his heart had happened.

‘Good morning, darling,’ he murmurs in English, and presses a kiss into thick dark hair. ‘Hello.’

A curious little finger traces along one of the tattoos on his arm and he looks down, smiling as Fernando peers up at him.

‘Hey there,’ he says cheerfully. ‘I’m David, I’m a friend of Sergio’s and Iker’s. What do you like for breakfast, Fernando? Cereal? Eggs?’

‘Name’s ‘Nando,’ Sergio mumbles.

Fernando smiles back shyly and shrugs, and for a moment David has a wild hope that this little lad might stay this way, sweet and quiet, a calming influence on Sergio- no matter what Iker implied. Then he catches that mischievous spark in Fernando’s big, innocent eyes, and the hope drains away.

The innocence is a lie.

‘Chocolate chip pancakes and banana splits with m&ms?’ Fernando suggests, and Sergio immediately sits up in his arms, wriggling happily.

‘Yeah!’

David glares at the ceiling.

>>> 

When Iker gets back, David is lying in the grass in the back yard, feeling like his lungs will never properly work again and watching incredulously as Sergio and Fernando zoom around like little rockets.

‘Good morning?’ Iker asks, sitting down beside him.

David groans and throws an arm over his eyes. ‘How am I this out of shape? Yesterday I would’ve sworn I was fit.’

‘You are,’ Iker says companionably. ‘Professional athletes couldn’t keep up with two boys under ten. Not for five hours.’

‘ _Papa_!’ Sergio shrieks, and David can’t scrounge up the energy to block his ears. Iker, as always, doesn’t seem bothered, and David wonders if he’s already half deaf.

Sergio throws himself into Iker’s lap and Fernando runs up behind him, settling easily on Iker’s unoccupied knee. ‘How are you two? Have you been good for Señor David?’

They both nod enthusiastically, and David decides it would be churlish to argue that they’d forced him to feed them up with sugar and then ran him into the ground.

From the laughter in Iker’s eyes as the boys chatter on at a mile a minute, he probably knows already anyway.

‘I like your son when he’s half asleep,’ David says wistfully in English. ‘He’s lovely when he’s half asleep. I know I promised I wouldn’t drug and kidnap him but can I drug him a little bit and take him to my mum and pretend he’s mine so she’ll get off my back about grandchildren?’

Iker laughs out loud at that. Sergio and Fernando, not having any idea what they’re laughing about but knowing David is the reason, laugh too and jump him.

>>> 

‘Beckham, marketing.’

‘ _Hi, it’s Iker. Is this a bad time?’_

‘Not if you can tell me how to make milk more appealing to the under-twelves. Which- actually, fuck-’ David thuds his forehead a few times off the top of his desk. ‘Why have I been sitting here working on this for four hours? Why didn’t I phone you four hours ago? I know you and I know your child is a champion milk drinker. Why didn’t I phone you?’

Iker laughs, and David can hear Sergio in the background laughing along just for the sake of laughing, like he always does.

‘No, seriously, how did you make Sergio like to drink milk? Tell me and I’ll pay you for market research, yeah?’

_‘You wouldn’t let me pay you for watching the boys last month, so I’ll tell you and we can call it even, yes?’_

‘If you want.’

 _‘It’s all about the football with Sergio,_ ’ Iker confides. _‘I told him that football players need to be really strong to take all the hits without getting injured, and milk would make his bones tough so they won’t get broken in a hard tackle. And I said he’d be taller than if he doesn’t drink it, and taller players win headers. He wanted to drink gallons after that.’_

‘Huh,’ David says, and quickly types a few notes. Sports, pro-athlete endorsements, defenders not doctors, Mertesacker not mums. ‘Thanks, mate. That’s a big help. What did you call about?’

‘ _To see if you’re busy Friday evening, about five to seven. Fernando’s primary class is having an open house so parents can meet the teachers. They’re showing off pictures and projects the students have made in these first couple weeks, so we’re going because Fernando wants Sergio to see his projects, and then today both of them asked if you could come to see, too.’_

‘Would that be okay? For me to come, even if I’m not a parent?’

_‘Sure. If anybody asks we’ll say you’re Sergio’s uncle. They’ll think you’re the reason he likes his hair long, to copy you.’_

‘I’ve always wanted to ask, why _does_ he like his hair long? Him and Fernando?’

 _‘Sergio saw a football player with long hair, and a flamenco singer,’_ Iker says, and David knows that explains everything. _‘You too now, of course.’_

‘And Fernando saw Sergio.’

_‘Exactly.’_

‘You know they’re going to get matching tattoos someday.’

‘ _Don’t remind me.’_

>>> 

David feels a little awkward showing up to a primary school he has only very tenuous connections to, but he knows that if he doesn’t go, Sergio will spend their next time together staring up at him with big tearful eyes and make him feel like everything wrong in the world is entirely his fault.

He’d done it when David had put his foot down about not stealing a dog they met at the park, and David still feels guilty.

So, Friday afternoon, he drives home straight from the park after promising Sergio that he’d see them later, and goes to stand in front of his closet.

A row of trousers and colour-categorised shirts stare back at him.

What the hell are you supposed to wear to a primary school art gallery?

David thinks about phoning his mother to ask, but he’d never get off the phone without spilling the whole story, and there isn’t nearly enough time for that. Then he thinks about phoning Iker, but Iker, he’s come to realise, has the fashion sense of a lump of wood. He seems to own only jeans, tracksuits, and plain t-shirts. Poor Sergio has a few nice bright things that were probably given to them by friends or family, but most of his wardrobe is drab, too.

He should take Sergio shopping.

Filing that thought away for another time, David finally picks out a nice pair of jeans, a black shirt, and brown chukkas. He can’t go wrong with those.

>>> 

Fernando’s school is the same place that Sergio goes for daycare during the school year, and where Iker is the sport instructor. David pulls up ten minutes before five and manages to score a parking space just a few down from Iker’s white car. He’s hardly climbed out before a dark blur, low to the ground, tears through the front doors of the school and crashes into his legs, knocking him back into his car door and slamming it shut, Sergio’s arms still outstretched towards the gap.

‘ _Christ_ , Sergio!’ David grabs the boy’s shoulders and drops instantly to his knees on the ground, taking Sergio’s tiny fingers tightly in his bigger, shaking ones as he makes sure nothing got hurt or caught in the door when it slammed. Sergio, completely unconcerned that he could’ve just had his hands taken off, is already chattering.

‘-and ‘Nando’s are in the middle but they’re too high up for me to see so papa held me up and there’s one with me and one with you and me and papa and one with the puppy from the park because I told him we’re gonna go back and get it-’

Everything is still attached, nothing is hurt. David lets him keep talking and just pulls him into his chest, still kneeling on the ground, molding one hand around the back of Sergio’s head and pressing the other across his tiny, narrow shoulders. ‘You’re going to kill me,’ he promises. ‘You’re going to scare me to death.’

‘What happened?’ Iker jogs up, dressed- of course- in old jeans and a grey t-shirt. David laughs and it sounds a little hysterical, just like he feels.

‘He pushed me into the car door when he ran up and it shut,’ David explains. Sergio is wriggling to get away from him, probably wanting to go back inside and see Fernando, but David isn’t quite ready to give him up just yet. Or stand up. ‘I honestly thought he’d caught his hands in the door for a second, I swear to God.’

‘Welcome to my life,’ Iker says with a weary smile, and he lets David pick Sergio up and hold him tightly close as they make their way inside.

‘I started working here first,’ Iker says suddenly as they walk. David figures he’s used to near misses with Sergio and understands the need for distraction to get the heart rate back down. ‘I got the job when Sergio was a baby but my parents still lived here in Madrid, so they took care of him when I was here. Then they moved away two years ago and the daycare said Sergio could come even though they don’t take kids under four or five, because I could spend my breaks and free periods with him. Then last year, when Fernando’s parents started looking at primary schools for _him_ , Fernando kicked up a fuss and demanded to attend here.’

‘So he could be with Sergio?’ David guesses.

Iker clicks his tongue and nods.

David shakes his head. ‘I’m surprised he didn’t try to get himself held back a year so they could be in the same class.’

‘Oh, he did,’ Iker says, holding the front door open to let him through, as David’s hands are still clamped on Sergio to make sure the boy can’t escape and find any more trouble. ‘And when that didn’t work, they got into my files at home and Fernando wrote over everything they could find with Sergio’s birthday on it to make him a year older, so he could go early. You know, if records offices accepted forms scrawled on in purple marker.’

David laughs but Sergio scowls, apparently remembering what Iker is talking about and not enjoying being laughed at. David kisses his cheek and pats his hip. ‘It’s alright, love,’ he comforts him. ‘I’m sure Fernando will wait for you.’

He finally lets Sergio squirm to the floor when Fernando comes over with his parents, but he keeps an eye on both of them as they sneak without any subtlety at all to the dessert end of the buffet table until Iker elbows him in the ribs.

‘Hm? Oh.’ David smiles and shakes the hand that’s offered to him, finally greeting Fernando’s dad. ‘Hi.’

‘Sorry,’ Iker says quickly. ‘Sergio’s testing our reflexes today. It’s better for our health when he’s in sight.’

That breaks the ice nicely, because of course Fernando’s parents know all about how exasperating Sergio can be.

‘Fernando talks about you as much as he talks about Iker now,’ Mrs Torres says, and her grin is teasing. ‘Sergio has stars in his eyes whenever you come up in conversation. We’ve been eager to meet the _other_ man who is stealing our son away.’

David has no idea how to respond, because how is he supposed to tell this lady that he only knows Sergio because he’d nearly got him hit by a car then tried to bribe him with ice cream that made him really, really sick and he only knows Fernando because he and Sergio are going to get married in a few years, if she hadn’t heard the news already-

‘They’re nice boys,’ he says finally.

Iker snorts, and David elbows him back.

‘I never know what to say to them either,’ Iker admits when the pair of them flee to the buffet table. ‘They have two kids older than Fernando, so they know what they’re doing. Their house is always really clean. And whenever Sergio stays overnight they tell me how sweet and quiet he is, and I always want to ask if they had the right child because _that_ isn’t mine.’

David opens a bottle of lemonade and slings an arm around Iker’s shoulders. ‘It’ll be okay,’ he promises. ‘If we’re the only ones who know what a terror he really is, we’ll just have to band together to save the world from his devious ways. When he finally marries Fernando they’ll take over everything with their big sad eyes if we don’t stop them somehow.’

‘Fernando’s not so bad in public,’ Iker says, picking through a tray of finger sandwiches. ‘He’s probably being polite tonight and keeping Sergio in line. He’s more reserved in public. The evil only comes out when we’re alone.’

David laughs so hard he snorts lemonade out his nose.

‘Ewww,’ Sergio says, popping out from under the tablecloth. David nudges him back under with his toe and hands him two of the apple pastries when Iker turns away to find him some napkins.

>>> 

David is a sound sleeper when he gets the chance and it takes him a minute for his mind to clear enough to realise that a sound woke him up.

It’s three in the morning, and his mobile is ringing.

He flaps his hand around the nightstand until he finds it and blindly swipes the screen, squeezing his eyes shut at the searing light. ‘Hello?’

_‘Señor David?’_

He jerks upright with a start. ‘Sergio?’

All he can hear is indistinct giggling and whispering.

‘Sergio,’ he says loudly. ‘Sergio, are you alright? Where are you?’

There’s a thud, and the call ends.

David quickly calls the last number and notices that it’s Iker’s mobile. It picks up after the fourth ring, and Iker’s rough, raspy voice says, ‘ _Hello?’_

‘Iker, I don’t know what’s going on but Sergio just called me from your phone-‘

‘ _What? Hey- nene, why are you under my bed?’_

There’s more giggling in the background, then silence, then the sound of rustling fabric and creaking mattress springs.

_‘He ran off.’_

‘He’s okay, though?’

_‘What? Yeah, I don’t know why- oh. Oh. Sorry.’_

‘What?’ David feels a little wild like he’s coming off an adrenaline rush. Well, he was woken up by Sergio ringing up on his own in the middle of the night; that’s probably the truth.

 _‘He wanted to learn how to write your name today,’_ Iker says, and he sounds like all the weight of the world is on his shoulders. _‘I think he looked you up in my phone to see if he could read it and then accidentally called you.’_

David pauses. ‘I’m really sorry, but I’m going to have to kill your son before he does me in for good. It's nothing personal, you understand. But I have to.’

 _‘Get in line,’_ Iker says, and David hears a jaw-popping yawn that’s cut off halfway through when he hangs up.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shouldn’t write when I’m sleepy  
> Because I swear I just thought about adding  
> Cristiano as a hair salon owner  
> Also I have to say I’m STAGGERED that you people are reading and liking this already. Before I posted I checked the ‘Football RPF’ section and there were about 50 stories in David Beckham/Iker Casillas, so I guessed it’s not a very popular thing, and figured people might not want this at all because they’re not themselves in it, and only decided to post anyway for my own self-satisfaction. Twelve hours up and I have actual comments! You’re amazing! I guess I’ll keep going, then

‘Hello?’

_‘Hi, it’s Iker. Are you busy?’_

‘You know, you don’t have to ask that every time. If I couldn’t talk, I wouldn’t pick up the phone. And if I just didn’t want to talk to _you_ , I’d pick up the phone and say ‘fuck off’ instead of ‘hello.’’

_‘That’s good to know, but I actually meant are you busy now. Today.’_

‘Oh.’ It’s Saturday morning, and David doesn’t really want to admit that he’s a fit, likeable young man in a city like Madrid with absolutely nothing at all to do for an entire weekend except practise penalty kicks by himself in the park. At night. After everyone else has left, so there’s no-one to see how sad and alone he is. But it’s the truth, so he says, ‘No, as it happens. Why, do you need me to watch Sergio?’

_‘No, Sergio’s staying with my parents this weekend. They were complaining about not seeing him in forever so I took him out there last night.’_

‘Coward!’ David crows. ‘I bet you took him at night so he’d fall asleep before you left their house and you wouldn’t have to see his face when you said goodbye.’

_‘You do the same thing! Whenever you leave here and he’s still awake you sneak out the back door and jump over the fence. I think that’s worse.’_

‘Absolutely,’ David agrees serenely. ‘But I admit it. I freely confess before king and country that I would rather humiliate myself in front of your neighbours than face up to your boy when he’s sad.’

Iker grumbles. David smirks and he knows he looks smug.

‘So what’s going on?’

 _‘My house is too quiet,’_ Iker sighs. _‘I’m not used to spending so much time away from him. Nobody else wants to spend time with me this weekend because they think I’ll just complain about Sergio not being here and show them lots of baby pictures. Do you want to come over?’_

‘Wow.’ David blinks. ‘I think that might have actually been insulting. You need to work on how you sell the joys of being in your company.’

 _‘You’re the marketer,’_ Iker says, and David can practically see the shrug. _‘Are you still trying to sell milk? Do you want to go to a grocery store together and you can practise on me in the dairy aisle?’_

‘You really know how to live it up, mate.’

_‘I’ll let you reorder my kitchen cabinets if you come over. You keep saying how stupid the organisation is.’_

‘Or I can bring alcohol and rent some films and we can spend a night like actual grown-up men?’

_‘Yeah, okay.’_

>>> 

David wakes up Sunday morning on Iker’s sofa with Iker’s head on his shoulder, drool running down his shirt, and the DVD menu for _Goal! 2: Living the Dream_ still playing on the tv. He nudges Iker in the side until he wakes up, groaning and twisting his spine as his sits upright, rubbing his eyes just like Sergio does when he’s sleepy.

‘We fell asleep on your sofa on a Saturday night before the first film even finished,’ David says.

‘Yes?’ Iker’s eyes are bleary and he scrubs his hands over his face as he yawns. Morning stubble makes him look closer to David’s age, which is something.

‘I fell asleep on a Saturday night before midnight and I’m awake respectably early on a Sunday morning and I don’t have a hangover. We need lives,’ David tells him. ‘We need to dump Sergio off with a babysitter and go party ‘til we get arrested.’

‘Sergio would just run away from the babysitter to come find us. You’ve spoiled him for babysitters. He won’t stay with anyone else ever again. I had to bribe him with churros to go to my parents.’

‘Then he can come with us,’ David decides. ‘He’ll have fun dancing at clubs and he can use his sad eyes to get us all out of prison.’

‘We’re not letting my son get arrested. Do you know how bad it would look on his primary school application if I have to put down that he’s spent time in jail?’

‘He’ll be fine. He can do that hip-shaking dance he does from the Shakira song and he’ll have all the gang members and tax dodgers eating out of his hand.’

‘Please stop talking.’ Iker yawns again and slumps back against the other arm of the sofa, turning on his side and closing his eyes like he’s ready to go back to sleep. ‘I’m going to feel really bad about leaving him alone with you if you keep talking about taking him to prison. Besides, Fernando would probably just dig a tunnel to get him out and then we’d be stuck left inside.’

David kicks him. ‘I didn’t want Sergio with us, anyway. I’m trying to make a plan for us to go out and get shitfaced and have lives like guys who don’t have Sergios. C’mon, help me out. We’re a team. A team of losers.’

Iker kicks back. ‘You’re terrible at planning. You almost let Sergio walk up and steal a dog. If we’re a team, I should be captain so I can say no to your plans.’

David has to kick him again, and that starts a foot-fight that goes until they both fall off the sofa and hit the floor, laughing.

>>> 

_‘Hello?’_

‘Hey, I forgot to ask before I left yesterday, for the match tomorrow, since it’s at three-thirty with the time difference, I just assumed I could come over but will you even be home by then?’

_‘Yeah, right, I forgot they’re playing in Macedonia. We usually get back just a little after three. I’ll make an extra key today and leave it under the mat for you. Get there whenever and let yourself in, okay? I should warn you, though, Sergio’s being kind of cranky. Don’t feel bad if he’s not so excited to see you tomorrow.’_

‘Why, what happened?’

_‘You know I told you I promised him churros if he went willingly to my parents? He thought that meant churros on demand forever, not just for the ride to Navalacruz. His whole life is ruined. He says he can’t even get married to Fernando now because he won’t have any churros to give him.’_

‘Aww. Should I bring churros, then?’

_‘…Don’t ever have children.’_

>>> 

Tuesday night, after the match is over and Sergio is tucked up sulking in bed, they try to stay awake long enough to watch the _Goal!_ Trilogy again.

Wednesday morning, Sergio is so thrilled when he gets up and finds David sleeping on the sofa that he forgets all about the churros.

‘I totally blow his mind, don’t I?’

‘It’s not really that special. His mind was blown when he found out that bread doesn’t come out of the ground like carrots.’

Sergio is too wound up to eat his cereal so Iker just packs him extra snacks and a note about the missed breakfast for the daycare attendants.

David sits at the kitchen table drinking coffee and watching Sergio hurtle in circles around the kitchen.

‘Sese, why are you so excited? Last time I was here in the morning you were all sleepy and cuddly.’

Sergio just keeps running his race track, barely avoiding crashing into his papa every time Iker walks in and out getting them ready, so David stretches out an arm on the next go-round and scoops him into his lap. Sergio giggles and reaches for the tattoo showing where his t-shirt’s ridden up his side.

‘Can you come by every morning?’ Iker asks, and he doesn’t quite sound like he’s joking. ‘If he exhausts himself running around with you he won’t be so hard to say goodbye to at daycare.’

‘Are you asking me to co-parent? ‘Cos if that’s what we’re doing now I think I should definitely get to show him off to mum and dad with a fake birth certificate.’ David bounces the lad on his knees a bit, hands sitting loosely on his waist because he doesn’t trust Sergio not to take a swan dive to the floor- accidentally or on purpose. ‘Sese, if I agree to come here every morning do you want to come back to London with me and pretend to be sweet for my parents?’

Sergio puts on his serious thinking face, like he hasn’t spent the last twenty minutes shrieking wordlessly with glee just because David was in the house when he woke up. ‘Can Nando come too so you can make chocolate chip pancakes and banana splits again?’

David can feel Iker’s glare from across the room. It’s cowing, even if Iker’s younger and looks ridiculous in his shiny school-issue tracksuit, and David figures it’s because he gets so much practise with Sergio. ‘I think you’re on your own there, mate.’

Sergio heaves an enormous sigh and slumps down in his lap.

David gathers him in for a cuddle. ‘I’ll sneak some m&ms into your lunch, okay?’ he whispers.

He has to take out the tomato and the bag of grapes to make room, but he manages.

>>> 

David checks his mobile at lunchtime and finds a text from Iker.

> _Just got a note from the daycare leader asking me to come in for a conference this week to talk about why i let sergio skip meals and fill his lunch with candy_

There’s an attachment, but when he opens it his phone’s screen is too small to see whatever it is properly, so he forwards it to his email and opens it on his laptop. It’s a photo of an official-looking form with the stationary heading of Iker’s school.

 

He’s drawn a red circle around the one line that isn’t checked off, like ticking every option but that one wasn’t already obvious enough. There are spiky red arrows pointing at the last line above his signature, and underneath, he’s written,

 

It suddenly occurs to David that he’s never wondered where Sergio got his devious streak before and he feels like a complete muppet for it now.

His best friend is a bastard.

>>> 

David ties his hair back and puts on a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a few leather wristbands, and feels he looks a bit like Johnny Depp circa _Pirates of the Caribbean_ , roguish and charming. The daycare leader is apparently middle-aged and female, so he figures between the look and some terribly polite British vagueness he’ll be in and out in ten minutes. He spends the drive over trying to think up properly smug and suave texts he can send to Iker when he’s done.

By the time the daycare leader lets him leave David is so terrified of juvenile diabetes and childhood obesity and sugar-rotten little brains that he wants to call Iker and make him promise that Sergio will never eat anything but fish and vegetables and milk ever again for the rest of his life, except for a bowl of plain porridge every morning at 6am sharp. He also wants to take Sergio and give him anything he asks for to apologise for ever giving him nasty, cruel candy and ice cream, but he knows Sergio would just ask for _more_ candy and ice cream, so that won’t work.

He walks out to his car and calls Iker.

_‘Hello?’_

‘Can I have Sergio?’

_‘No.’_

‘No, I mean, not, like, forever, can I just have him this afternoon? And some other afternoons? Maybe some weekends? We can draw up a schedule.’

_‘…He’s not actually partly yours, remember? We’re not divorced parents sharing his time. He’s just mine, and I let you hang around.’_

‘The _fuck_ you just let me hang around. Sergio thinks I’m cooler than you.’

_‘Only because he thinks all English people have unicorns for pets and you’re going to get him one for his birthday.’_

David pauses with his hand on the car door. ‘…Where did he get _that_?’

_‘I don’t know. I don’t think he even knows what unicorns are. He said he was going to draw one and it looked the same as when he said he was going to draw a squid.’_

David wears him down until he agrees that he can pick Sergio up from school twice a week and keep him for the time it takes Iker to run errands and do whatever chores at home are easier without Sergio underfoot.

He takes Sergio out to the school sport fields. He might not have the willpower to give up sneaking Sergio sweets, but he can help him burn through the sugar, at least.

They play football.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone have a female-named person you don’t like very much? Tell me their name! Much, much later I have planned a female character who isn’t super nice. I hate picking names for non-protagonists, I always feel really terrible for everybody with whatever name I choose. Help me out and gain some catharsis! (first names only, NO other identifying information obviously, please!)

‘Beckham, marketing.’

‘ _Davy-boy, you never answer your phone anymore! I can’t believe your own best mate has to ring you up at work just to hear your voice.’_

‘Christ, sorry, Gary. It’s been forever, hasn’t it?’

_‘I was about ready to fly over there and bang on your door just to see if you’re still alive.’_

‘Yeah, sorry, mate. I’ve been busy.’

_‘Ah, work going well?’_

‘What? Oh. Yeah.’

_‘Oooh?’_

‘What do you mean, ‘oooh?’’

_‘Well, if it’s not work, is there maybe a Spanish señorita somewhere taking up your time?’_

‘No! I would’ve told you if I’d met someone, you know that.’

_‘So what’s going on?’_

‘I…made friends with this bloke back at the start of summer and we’ve been hanging out a lot. Us and his son. They’re big into football.’

_‘You’re never answering your phone because you’re hanging out with some guy and his son?_

‘Yeah?’

_‘When the fuck did you get old, mate?’_

‘What? No! It’s not like that, Sergio’s a kid! He’s five! Iker’s- I don’t know how old he is, but he’s younger than me. We play football and watch football and hang out. We’re not sitting around all day acting old.’

_‘I’m thinking either Iker is your secret gay lover or Sergio is your secret lovechild you adopted out five years ago and now you’ve tracked him down to steal him back.’_

‘No! What the hell, Gary!’

>>>                                            

‘Why is your hair different colours?’

David tilts his head back and Sergio leans over him until they’re nose to nose. He puckers up his lips to kiss Sergio’s forehead.

David’s sitting on the floor in front of the sofa with Fernando sprawled across his lap, practising his spelling in a workbook on the rug, occasionally poking David’s thigh with his pencil and asking him to check his lines. The workbook is one of a set David brought because the boys had wanted to practise writing on _him,_ and he doesn’t mind going to work with scrawled Magic Marker drawings of dogs or footballs or whatever else the boys come up with scattered among his real tattoos, but he doesn’t much fancy being covered in half-backwards alphabets.

Sergio’s behind his back, knees digging into his shoulders as he pulls sections free from David’s ponytail.

He tries not to move the rest of his body. He’s learned the hard way that Fernando tends to kick out in irritation if he’s jostled when he’s comfortable, and those sharp little knees are dangerously close to some delicate places.

‘Because I bleach it,’ he says, and carefully reaches up to tug gently on Sergio’s wild mane without disturbing Fernando. ‘I use a thing that makes it lighter. Like how Fernando’s hair is lighter on the ends because his hair gets bleached by the sun, but I do more of it, with a chemical. So the darker part is what my hair looks like on its own, and the lighter part…I lightened.’

His child-tailored explanation sounds kind of confusing even to him, but he’s never pretended to be a science teacher. It’s an hour past Sergio’s bedtime and he’s probably too sleepy to understand a word.

‘Oh.’ Sergio tugs a long handful up and out of the hairband and runs his fingers through it, curious. Then he leans in so he can hold the ends of his own and David’s hair together, looking at the difference. His bottom lip pokes out in a pout.

David can already see where this is going, and Iker will kill him and dump his body in the desert if he doesn’t put a stop to it now.

‘I bleach my hair because I don’t like the colour it is by itself,’ he says, tapping Sergio’s cheek to get his attention. ‘My hair’s a really boring colour. It’s pretty ugly. I don’t like it at all. Making it lighter makes it look better because it doesn’t look good at all by itself. You’ve got really gorgeous hair, though, haven’t you, darling?’ David sifts through the dark ends hanging down and doesn’t have to fake his encouraging smile. ‘Yours isn’t ugly like mine. Your hair is the same colour as your favourite hot chocolate, isn’t it? We wouldn’t want to lighten that. Chocolate tastes better the darker it is, doesn’t it?’

He’ll probably have to give Sergio chocolate after this, and of course Fernando too and then he’ll never get them to go to sleep, but at least Iker won’t come home to a plea for hair bleach and think David’s trying to corrupt his beautiful son. He’ll bribe Sergio with any amount of sweets to avoid that level of glaring.

Sergio lets go of David’s hair and plays with his own for a minute, looking thoughtful, then mollified. Then he peers down at David’s head again.

‘Your hair where it’s darker is the same colour as Nando’s.’

David freezes.

Fernando drops his pencil and looks up at him, open-mouthed.

‘No,’ David says quickly. ‘No, it isn’t. It’s much different from Nando’s. Nando has lovely hair.’

Sergio purses his little mouth in a frown and David can feel tiny fingernails scratching at his scalp as Sergio pulls more hair out of the ponytail and pushes it aside so he can see the grown-out roots. ‘Yes, it is. It’s the same colour as Nando’s.’ Sergio’s frown deepens. ‘Nando’s hair is ugly.’

Fernando is six and two-thirds. He’s too young to really care about what he looks like and anyway, he’s not that kind of lad. David knows this. He’d bet anything that in a few years’ time when other boys at school try to tease him about his freckles, he honestly won’t give a damn.

But if Sergio is a devious little shit, he’s got nothing on Fernando, and David can feel a whimper trying to crawl out of his throat at the cunning gleam in Fernando’s eyes.

Two seconds later, Fernando is sobbing and wailing like his heart is broken, and Sergio’s bawling alongside him because he’s upset that Fernando is sad, and David’s promising them both anything and everything in the world if they’ll just shut up because the match Iker’s ref’ing finished half an hour ago and he’ll be home any minute and he was supposed to have put them to bed ages ago but they asked so sweetly to stay up a little longer- before they turned and showed their colours as the Satan spawn they really are-

‘What the hell happened?!’

Speak of the devil. David whirls around, glaring daggers. Before he can try to insist that no matter what it looks like, this is not his fault (it’s all Sergio’s) and he is _not_ torturing the children, Fernando jumps up, dry-eyed and beaming. He runs over and throws his arms around Iker’s hips in the highest hug he can reach.

‘Señor David’s gonna buy me a motorcycle!’

>>> 

The thing is, out of the corner of his eye, David keeps catching Fernando looking at his hair.

Fernando’s not his boy.

But Sergio’s not his boy either, even if they all sometimes forget it- Sergio seems to have forgotten completely that David’s only been around for about five months, not his entire life, and David has to stop himself when he’s on the phone with his mum from telling her all about what Sergio’s just learned to do. A few days after the Hair Incident Iker forgets himself during an argument about whether Sergio should be allowed to watch a bullfight (David says absofuckinglutely not, Iker insists it’s cultural heritage) and snaps, _‘he’s my son, too!’_

There’s an awkward silence. Unbearably awkward. Then Iker mumbles something about ‘I mean, he’s mine, fuck off’ and they both drink too much before passing out in front of a telenovela, grateful that Sergio is at Fernando’s for the night.

So Sergio might be a _little_ bit his now, and Fernando is completely Sergio’s which makes him maybe a tiny bit David’s by extension, but he doubts Fernando’s parents probably see it like that.

But Fernando keeps looking at his hair.

On his next Sergio Day, when Iker’s off buying groceries and pulling mountains of LEGOs out from under Sergio’s bed and David gets a few hours to have Sergio to himself, he dresses a little more nicely than usual and ties his hair up, slicking the front back so it looks as professional and well-groomed as long bleach-blond hair on a thirty-something man can possibly get. Usually he gets to the school a few minutes before Sergio’s let out, because he likes the utter elation on Sergio’s face when the boy looks up and sees him leaning in the doorway of the daycare room, but this time he waits outside. When Fernando’s mum pulls in he jogs over.

>>> 

David doesn’t tell Iker because he’s not completely sure how his _slightly_ conservative best mate will respond. Iker loves Fernando like another son, and he definitely thinks David is a bit vain, and he might seriously consider this a bad influence.

Besides, this is between him and Fernando. The lad might not want him to talk about it anyway.

So he knows Iker will be surprised when he comes home, expecting Sergio and David to be out, but finding both of them with Fernando sprawled out on the grass in the back yard.

‘Did you actually move in and I didn’t notice?’

David’s lying on his stomach with his face pillowed on his arms. Both of the boys are copying him, a blanket from Sergio’s bed draped over them so they won’t get cold because even if there’s plenty of sunshine, it’s still November. They’re giggling and snorting now and then as they get blades of grass up their noses. He picks his head up just enough to squint at Iker. ‘You’d know if I moved in. The laundry would’ve suddenly gotten a lot more High Street.’

‘And the bathroom counter a lot more cluttered. As soon as you start bringing over skin creams I’m going to charge you rent.’

David checks that the boys are still face-down before he flips him off.

Iker comes down to sit next to him and starts pulling up handfuls of grass, scattering them along David’s back. ‘What are you doing?’

David drops his head back down. ‘We’re working on Fernando’s hair.’

‘And mine!’

‘And Sergio’s.’

‘Oh. How?’

David sighs and rolls over with a stretch. ‘Lemon juice, baking soda and salt water. I googled it. We rubbed it all through his hair and we’ve been out here in the sunlight for a while. If we do it a few times it’ll lighten the colour up.’

Not too much, and only quite gradually at this time of year, which is why Fernando’s mum agreed to it after he assured her they wouldn’t use any chemicals. He’s soaked his own hair in lemon juice too- it won’t make any difference over the bleach, but he doesn’t want Fernando to have to do it alone.

‘You know that just because he’s probably my future son-in-law and I let you do lots of things with _my_ son doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want with Fernando, right? You asked his parents before you decided to become a hairdresser?’

‘Of course not,’ David says, sounding affronted. ‘I kidnapped him from school and I’m doing this totally against his will. Look how he’s yelling for help and struggling to get away.’

They look over at Fernando. He’s blowing a leaf across the grass.

Iker eyes his son warily. ‘What’s on Sergio’s hair? That looks way too dark and…gloppy…to be lemon juice.’

‘Yeah, it’s chocolate sauce. He didn’t want to be left out.’

‘…You’re in charge of the baths.’

‘Yeah, I guessed as much.’

‘You’re lucky it’s winter or his head would probably be covered in ants.’

David wishes he could say he’d thought of that. He’s just very, very grateful instead. He twists to look over at the boys, feeling impressed with how they’ve been determinedly keeping still with their hair spread out to catch the sun. ‘You two ready to go inside and wash this out? I think that’s enough for one day.’

>>> 

‘Beckham, marketing.’

_‘I have a gift for you.’_

‘Yeah? What’s that?’

_‘Here. Come here, you. David, ask him how old you are.’_

_‘DAVID!!!’_

‘Ow. Hi, Sese. How old am I?’

_‘TWENTY-THREE!!!’_

_‘You don’t need to shout, nene, he can hear you. Feel better?’_

‘I feel like if you’re implying what it sounds like you’re implying, I feel really offended.’

_‘You’re always going on about wanting to act more like ‘normal young men.’ You seem to have a preoccupation with age.’_

‘So you taught Sergio to say ‘twenty-three?’’

_‘No, he just suddenly realised this morning that he can count up to twenty-three, so for right now every number is twenty-three.’_

‘Aww, that’s- hang on, if he can count to twenty-three, why can’t he count to twenty-nine?’

_‘I’ve been wondering that all day.’_

>>> 

A few weeks later, it’s getting too cold and rainy to lie outside anymore, but that’s okay. They’re done.

David’s pretty sure that Sergio is now permanently sticky. At least he’s never found an ant, and he’s a bit obsessive about checking now, pinning the boy in a circle of his legs as he combs over every last inch of his scalp.

‘What do you think?’ David asks, rubbing a towel in one last rough pass over Fernando’s damp head, and turns him to face the mirror. This last afternoon has really done the trick, he thinks. The lingering orangey tones are gone and he just looks sunstreaked and golden.

‘Pretty,’ Sergio declares, and goes up on his tiptoes to smack a kiss on the side of Fernando’s head like David and Iker always do to him. Fernando smiles shyly, and this time even to David it looks real.

David would never, ever tell a child- or anyone, really- that they don’t look good enough as they come. He doesn’t think it’s ever true. And there’s a big difference between changing something to make yourself look more like _you_ and changing it to make yourself look like _someone_. Fernando was a perfectly adorable child before. But this, the golden hair with the bright eyes and the freckles and lanky limbs, this looks right. This looks like Nando, their little sunbeam.

He eyes Sergio up and down, with his baggy khaki shorts and his grey hoodie and grey trainers and his bright, laughing eyes.

Sergio’s next.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of your comments make me giddy, they really do.  
> I love you all and would make you each a honey cake if I could.

‘Beckham, marketing.’

_‘Hi. How are you?’_

Iker sounds exhausted. David frowns.

‘Fine, what’s up? How are you?’

 _‘I need to ask you a really, really big favour.’_ There’s a sharp gust of a sigh. _‘Really massive. And I know it’ll probably be really inconvenient for you, but don’t say no right away, please? Take a minute first to think of everything you can decide I’ll owe you in return. For whatever that’s worth.’_

David hesitates. The way Iker’s talking, he half expects him to ask for a million pounds or an alibi for a murder. ‘What kind of favour?’

_‘Can you take Sergio for the weekend? At your place?’_

‘…Why?’ He wishes he didn’t have to pause. Iker sounds really desperate, and he’s never unhappy to help out a mate or spend more time with Sergio, but this is his _home_. Where everything is clean, and neat, and organised, with all the papers tucked away and all the corners lined up. His home is not Sergio-proof.

_‘He keeps getting flea bites at night. I think either he or Fernando picked one up at school a few days ago- or maybe you brought one from work when you came over on Monday- but now Sergio’s bedroom is infested. I’m going to use the spray and the powder all over the whole house but you’re not supposed to go near it for twenty-four hours, and Sergio’s small so I want to leave it for forty-eight, so I’ll do it Friday afternoon, but then we have to spend the weekend somewhere else and I can just crash on a friend’s sofa but my parents have my brother’s kids over this weekend and they can’t handle Sergio as well, and Fernando’s family is doing the same thing to their house so they’re staying with relatives and I didn’t want to ask because I know you have a thing about your space but most of my other friends don’t do very well with kids so I didn’t know what else to do-‘_

‘Hey, hey,’ David soothes, pushing a hand through his hair and sitting back. ‘It’ll be okay. God, you sound like you haven’t slept in a week.’

_‘Sergio keeps waking up after a couple hours because of the itching and comes crawling into my bed, and then he spends the rest of the night rolling around complaining about how much it itches and how bad the antihistamine lotion smells. And then he’s tired in the daytime so it’s just one tantrum after another.’_

‘Yeah, I get it. It’s okay.’ He feels bad about his earlier, momentary thought of suggesting they just stay in a hotel. Sergio’s usually such a delight when David’s around that he sometimes forgets the boy really isn’t a different species from the type of kid he sees screaming in supermarket aisles because they don’t get a biscuit. He wonders how Iker managed through the toddler years, when he was all on his own. ‘Of course he can come stay. You both can. Don’t go crash on some random sofa, just come stay with me.’

_‘No, that part’s fine, I’ve already asked someone, you don’t need to put up with both of us-‘_

‘Iker, if I didn’t want to put up with both of you, I wouldn’t keep spending time at your house when you’re both there. It’s fine. Come stay with me. Whoever you’re planning on staying with sounds like a right prick anyway if they wouldn’t have Sese as well. You don’t want to be spending time with people like that.’

_‘Are you sure?’_

‘What, that they’re a prick?’

‘Ah- _hem_.’

David looks up over his shoulder. His department manager is standing behind him, one eyebrow raised and arms crossed over her chest.

He smiles winningly.

It doesn’t seem to take.

‘It’s not a client,’ he promises her, keeping the phone to his mouth so Iker can hear and hopefully guess what’s going on. ‘A friend just called. About an emergency. I only answered to tell him that it would be inappropriate for me to waste company time by talking to him while I’m meant to be working, but as I said, it turned out to be an emergency. Which we’re attending to as quickly as possible so that I can get back to work.’

‘An emergency about a prick?’ she asks, and David has no idea at all how she said that with a straight face because his inner twelve-year-old is snickering gleefully.

‘…Yes. See, there was this parasitical infestation-‘

‘I do _not_ want to know,’ she says quickly, and goes so far as to raise her hands to physically cut him off. ‘Please, no details. If it’s really necessary to assist your friend with his medical problems right at this moment, please at least do it somewhere where you can’t be overheard.’

David watches her hurry away, and the inner twelve-year-old about wets himself cracking up. ‘I think my boss thinks you have a really horrifying STD,’ he tells Iker.

 _‘How?’_ David classifies that sound as a whinge, and feels very, very grateful that he’s never been around a sleep-deprived, tantrum-prone Sergio before, if the experience makes even saintly Iker whinge. _‘My five-year-old son gets more action than I do. He and Fernando were holding hands when they walked out of the school today.’_

‘Do you think we’re influencing their minds by reading everything they do together as part of a big gay divine-plan romance?’

_‘They were also wearing matching gummy candy rings.’_

‘Right, so…no. Listen, do you want to just come over tonight? Not wait for Friday, so you two can get some sleep? ‘Cos you really sound like you’re about to keel over.’

_‘…I know I should be polite and say no, but...’_

‘Come on, there’s no point making Sergio go through an extra couple nights of itching. You have my address, right? I can clock out at lunch and go home and tidy things up, so I’ll be there and have beds ready for you guys by, what, three? You can come by any time after that.’

 _‘We’ll both need to take a bath with the flea shampoo to make sure they’re not on us, and I’ll run some laundry to make sure they’re not on anything we bring...so maybe around four? Is that okay?_ ’

‘Yeah, fine.’

_‘You’re sure this is alright? If it becomes a problem for you, just let me know and we’ll go somewhere else.’_

Iker’s obviously noticed his need for order and organisation, and David’s not sure if it’s more embarrassing or endearing how he’s trying so hard to not overstep David’s limits without actually knowing what they are.

No, definitely embarrassing. All of his other mates must be a lot of stingy bastards if he thinks Iker is _endearing_ just for being awkwardly polite.

‘It’s fine,’ he assures him. ‘It’s no problem. We’ll talk about it when you get there, yeah? I’ll make a spare key on the way home so you’ll be able to get in and out, and we’ll call in something for supper so we don’t have to worry about anything but getting Sergio settled in for four days in a new place.’

_‘Sergio likes to rummage through all the cupboards and drawers when he goes to a new house.’_

‘Lovely.’

_‘I’m just saying, if you have anything under your bed or in your nightstand that you don’t want him talking about in show-and-tell on Monday, don’t leave it there.’_

>>> 

_‘Hello?’_

‘Hi, mum, quick question, when we were kids, what was the bath you always put us in to take care of insect bites? Oatmeal and something, wasn’t it?’

_‘Well, the really best way to make sure you’ve got them all off you is to trim all the hair close-‘_

‘Mum, I’m not cutting my hair!’

>>> 

* **The number you have called is not available. Please leave a message after the tone.** **BEEP** *

 _‘Hello, David? It’s me, your- well,_ supposed _to be your date for Friday. I just got your message. Look, you didn’t have to- I mean, I know this was only set up by our friends, and a girl can take a straight rejection, you know? You didn’t have to make up some lame story for why you had to cancel. And by the way? Sick kid that you suddenly have to rush home and take care of? Way cliché. Have a nice life.’_

_> >> _

David stands in the cereal aisle of the supermarket, staring at his phone and wondering why people always talk about cute kids being chick magnets. His little gypsy is the cutest kid in the world, but Sergio’s had six months to work on his wingman act, and so far he hasn’t helped _once_.

>>> 

There’s a tiny extra room in David’s flat that was listed as a second bedroom, but he thinks the building manager must’ve been looking through the wrong end of a bloody telescope if that’s honestly what they believe. He uses it to store boxes of things that he never needs but can’t get rid of, and has a rack of free weights and a jump step and an exercise ball along one wall.

He makes a sturdy pile of the weights in his closet with the heaviest ones on top because if he leaves them out, it’s almost inevitable that one will get pulled out and dropped and crush a tiny foot, but he’s pretty sure Sergio won’t be able to budge something that’s heavier than he is. He deflates the ball, because that’s definitely just an accident waiting to happen. Then he lays out his blow-up camping mattress on the floor and starts marching on the air pump.

When he bought it the box claimed it was for two people (David likes to spread out when he sleeps, and just because he’s sleeping on the ground, that shouldn’t have to change), but apparently it’s designed by the same person who wrote the advert for his flat. The only two people he knows who could fit on the mattress at the same time are Sergio and Fernando. Even then it’s only because they always cuddle when they sleep.

It’ll do well enough for David on his own. Sergio and Iker can take his double bed, and everything’s sorted. He dresses both beds in clean sheets, double-checks his grocery list to make sure he’s got everything he thinks Sergio and Iker might need for a few days, and has enough time to catch the Premier League highlights on BBC iPlayer before the bell rings.

>>> 

Iker looks terrible. There are grey bags under his eyes and two days’ worth of beard only half hiding his pale skin.

Sergio looks like he has chicken pox, and like he’s trying to decide between being cranky because he’s itchy or bouncing off the walls in excitement because he finally gets to see David’s flat.

David solves that by hoisting him up into his arms. Sergio’s always happy to be held, and he tucks his head under David’s chin, wriggling in closer for more contact and comfort. David fairly melts a little and coos at him. Sweet, lovely boy.

‘He’s rubbing his flea bites on you because he’s not allowed to scratch,’ Iker tells him.

David immediately thrusts him out, hands under his armpits, so he’s left hanging in the air. Sergio pouts and kicks but his feet are dangling too far from anything to make contact.

‘Itchy,’ he whines.

‘I know, love. I’ve got something for that. Have you ever tried oatmeal baths on him?’ He directs the last part to Iker, still standing in the doorway with his and Sergio’s kit bags slung over his shoulders, but Iker just looks tired and confused.

‘What?’

‘Oatmeal baths,’ David repeats. ‘It’s a thing my mum always did when we were kids and got into fleas or nettles or something. You just stick ‘em in a tub full of hot water and a few boxes of oats and something in there makes the itching stop for a while.’

‘Oh. I wondered why it smelled like breakfast in here.’

David rolls his eyes. ‘Mate, you need sleep before you drop. I don’t even know how you drove here. You and Sergio are in my room, second door on the left down the hall. Throw your shi- er, _stuff_ in there and I’ll get the bath over with.’

Iker frowns, but he’s already moving towards the back rooms like the promise of a Sergio-free bed is a magnet. ‘You don’t need to give up your room, we can just-‘

‘Go!’ David orders, bringing Sergio back onto his hip so he can free a hand and point down the hall.

Sergio leans out and tries to use his outstretched finger to scratch a bite on his wrist, so David shifts his arm to under Sergio’s knees and lets him fall backwards. Sergio shrieks as he goes but when he’s upside down, swaying, he just looks around curiously like this is a perfectly good new way of seeing the world.

Iker sighs and scrubs a hand over his face and through his hair, making the front fluff up and stand on end. ‘I’m going to bed,’ he says wearily. ‘Wake me up at dinnertime. Don’t kill my son.’

Sergio waves goodbye as Iker shuffles down the hallway with their bags. Then he cranes his neck to look up at David.

‘I’m itchy.’

‘I know you are. You’ve got flea bites.’ David swings him back and forth a bit as they head to the waiting oatmeal bath.

‘Papa was putting ice on them and it was cold and it made them stop itching.’

‘Mm-hmm.’ David lowers him gently to the tiled floor of the bathroom, waiting for Sergio to put out his hands and roll down to his shoulders before he lets go.

‘Ice cream is cold,’ Sergio says, and crawls up to the edge of the tub and leans over the edge. He wrinkles his nose. ‘It smells bad.’ He looks up at David with an expression that ‘til now he’s only seen on his much-less-well-behaved nieces and nephews, one that says he’s about to get mutinous unless something goes his way very, very soon.

‘…You’re not going to get in the bath unless I give you ice cream, are you?’

Sergio beams at him.

>>> 

When Iker gets up a couple of hours later and stumbles out with a glass of water, David’s sitting on the sofa with his laptop on one knee and Sergio on the other, wrapped in a towel and curled up passed out against his chest.

David raises his eyebrows. ‘I didn’t expect you for a long while yet.’

Iker yawns and collapses in an armchair, one of two both placed at perfect right angles to the sofa. ‘Couldn’t stay asleep any longer. This week with Sergio waking me up ten times a night, it’s like when he was a baby. I think I’ve fallen back into the sleep pattern.’

David wants to ask about Sergio’s mother. He knows he shouldn’t. Iker’s never mentioned her. Sergio doesn’t seem to be aware that she exists. There aren’t any photos of unknown young women in the house, even in Iker’s room- David went in there once when Iker had to lend him a t-shirt after he and Sergio got covered in mud, playing football after daycare.

But David’s curious.

‘Hey,’ he says. ‘Sergio’s mum-’

‘Not around,’ Iker interrupts flatly. He takes a drink of his water and sets the glass down firmly on the coffee table like the sharp _clunk_ makes the conversation closed.

‘Right,’ David says, closing his laptop and pushing it aside. ‘So, like, is she…’

‘She’s not dead, she didn’t run off with somebody else, we were never married.’ It sounds like Iker’s reciting a list. ‘She just didn’t want Sergio, and I did, so I got full custody and we haven’t spoken since.’

David frowns and pulls Sergio up into his lap a little closer. He knows there’s a million reasons why someone might not want to keep their child, and it’s usually probably for the best, but he’s _met_ this one. How can anyone not want Sergio?

Iker smiles faintly at him, like he knows what he’s thinking. ‘We were really young. Nineteen and twenty. We weren’t even together and it wasn’t planned, or anything. I don’t think her friends even knew- she didn’t tell me until just a few weeks before he was born, because she wanted me to take a paternity test and tell the adoption family about any genetic illnesses.’

‘But you didn’t let the adoption go.’

‘No. I meant to, you know, because I was twenty and just starting university and wasn’t interested at all in having children any time soon, but…’ Iker shrugs helplessly, and he’s still smiling, looking at Sergio in David’s lap. The kid has his mouth wide open and he’s drooling on David’s shirt. ‘The family to adopt him was already there in the hospital and they were really Catholic, really serious people, friends of her parents, because they were really serious Catholics, too- that’s the only reason she didn’t just abort, because she didn’t want him at all. And I walked in just as the nurses were wheeling him out to an observation room and he wasn’t crying at all, he just had these big dark eyes staring at me and he wiggled like he was dancing, and I know babies can’t smile that young but he looked so _happy…_ and I knew I couldn’t let him go to those serious people all dressed in black like him being born was a tragedy, so I left the hospital and went straight to court and filed a claim to keep him by myself. And I won.’

‘Huh.’ David pets Sergio’s hair back and the boy mumbles a little, twisting in his arms. He thinks about what he’d be doing if Iker had given him away after all.

He’d never have met either Casillas, for a start, and he’d be sitting at work right now, bored, probably texting one of his mates back in London about the boring girl one of the boring lads at work had set him up with because he’d felt too awkward to say no. Instead he’s had a ridiculous afternoon trying to child-proof his bloody flat and planning out which replay match he and Iker are going to watch first, because they’ve both missed a couple this week, and it’d be nice to save the best (Real Madrid) for last but he and Iker can never stop themselves from shouting at the screen and cheering at the top of their lungs when it’s their Merengues playing, so that has to be before Sergio goes to bed at eight- and before the usual bedtime routine that David has down to a tee now, wrestling-pj’s-brush teeth-story-kiss-goodnight.

‘I really feel like a girl right now,’ David says, ‘but I’m really glad you didn’t give him up.’

‘Me too. Can I have him back now? You smell like old bad oatmeal, I think you should change your clothes.’

>>> 

David wakes up that night when the door of his spare room softly creaks open and the light he’d left on in the bathroom falls in his eyes. He blinks a few times to get the crust away and looks up.

Sergio’s hanging on to the doorway, peering in at him with a sad, hopeful look.

‘Oh, love,’ David whispers, and sits up, reaching out. ‘What’s wrong, darling? What do you need?’

Sergio comes in and crawls into his arms. He doesn’t speak, but he sighs like everything’s all better now, so David gathers him up under the blankets and lays back down with the boy cuddled close on his chest. He wraps his arms around him and Sergio blinks up at him with big, tired eyes.

‘Hey, baby,’ David murmurs into his hair. ‘Hello. You can sleep with me, okay?’

Sergio waits for the kiss on his forehead before he nestles down, breathing hot sighs into David’s neck. David strokes up and down the warm little back and wonders how he’d still be here in this city if Iker had given Sergio away, because this is the first time since he’s been here that he’s felt utterly and completely home.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God I have an exam tomorrow morning and it’s the Real Madrid-Atléti match in half an hour and I want to write more of this and what am I supposed to do?! Seriously though. I can’t be spending so much time on this. It’s been 4 days and I’ve written more pages on this than on all my homework all term. I need to cut myself off. (yeah, like that’s going to work) But if I start skipping a couple days between, that’s why- I’ve remembered I’m supposed to be a responsible adult who’s meant to be studying and finding jobs. Did anyone else out there feel completely gutted and lost when they realised that because they’re not a boy, they’d never, ever be on their beloved footie team? No matter what? I was. Am. Still trying to find something else to do with my life.

David wakes up to the alarm clock on his phone buzzing, and he can’t reach it. He tries to roll towards the sound but there’s a weight draped over his ribs, and he can’t move. He opens his eyes.

It’s Iker.

Iker is sleeping next to him.

They’re cuddled up like Sergio and Fernando do, or like David’s done before with his mates when he’s passed out drunk- heads pressed close, arms flopped out over each other’s middles. Their feet are tangled together. He tries to remember Iker coming in, or figure out why they’ve all ended up in the smallest bed in the flat, but he can’t.

His alarm clock gives a self-righteous chirp that means it’s giving him ten minutes of snooze time. He finally realises that he can’t reach his phone because he’s not actually on the air mattress anymore- he and Iker are on the floor next to it, leaving Sergio alone in a nest of the blankets. Sergio’s little arms and legs are flung out like a starfish and he’s taking up almost the whole width of the bed.

He should probably feel annoyed about being kicked out of bed by someone a third of his size, but Sergio’s too rosy-cheeked and unconscious to be annoyed at, so it makes David grin.

‘Now you know why I never get any sleep with him.’

David looks down. Iker’s smiling sleepily up at him, and David suddenly realises that he hasn’t moved away yet. He scoots quickly off to the side and tucks his tangled hair behind his ears. ‘Morning,’ he says softly.

‘Morning.’ Iker’s still smiling but he rolls back as much as he can between David and the mattress, raising his arms over his head and arching his back in a stretch. He doesn’t seem bothered at all with how he woke up. David wonders if it’s a Spanish thing, like the way they kiss friends when they meet and hug all the time. Tactile.

‘What are you doing in here?’ he asks.

‘I came to find Sergio. I woke up and he was gone.’

‘He came crawling in with me for some reason. He wasn’t upset or anything, but he didn’t seem happy, either.’

‘Well, he woke up when I went in and asked if we could do this all the time- you know, both of us putting him to bed and knowing that both of us would be here in the morning. And I said no, because we really like you but you’re not Sergio’s family like his abuelos, you’re a good friend like Fernando’s parents, and he wasn’t very happy with me. And then I think he felt strange waking up in an unfamiliar place and wanted to make sure you were still here,’ Iker says. ‘I was there, but you weren’t, so he had to go find you. Or maybe he thought you were being left out because he and I were in the same bed and you were alone...’

David looks over at Sergio, snoring quietly and dead to the world, and remembers the expression on Sergio’s face last night. David knows that Sergio really does think he loves every single person that he meets, even if he never sees them again- he’s got a ridiculously big heart for someone so tiny. He remembers nice things about ice cream vendors they’ve only visited once. But Iker’s not the most social, and he’s already said that most of his friends don’t much like Sergio tagging along.

 _Poor kid,_ David thinks. Maybe Sergio just wants to hang on to the people he has, and the only way he knows is to literally hang on.

‘…Then I didn’t want to wake him up when he’s been getting so little sleep, so I laid down to wait for him to wake up on his own. And I guess I fell asleep.’ Iker looks shy and embarrassed. It’s not something David’s used to seeing on him. There are thoughts bubbling up in the back of David’s head and they make him a little uncomfortable, like he wants to pull away from Iker right now and tell him- well, he doesn’t know what, exactly, because he’s still a bit asleep and whatever he says won’t come out right, he knows it won’t- so he just shoves those thoughts away for when he’s awake, and nudges Iker off more to the side so he can push up into a crouch over the bed.

Sergio’s easy. Sergio’s world is bright and beautiful as long as there’s ice cream, football, Iker, and Fernando. And he came to find David in the night, to make sure he hadn’t left, so. Maybe him, too. It makes David feel about ten feet tall.

‘Sese,’ he whispers, stroking back Sergio’s hair and down his shoulder. ‘Sergio. Time to wake up.’

Sergio whines and kicks and rolls over, curling up into such a tiny ball that David wouldn’t believe how much space he can take up in a bed if he hadn’t seen it for himself. He grins and runs his fingertips lightly, tickling, down the back of Sergio’s neck.

‘Nuh-uh, you. Come on, up.’

Behind him Iker rolls to his feet and stretches his arms to the ceiling, yawning. ‘Time to wake up, nene. Let’s go.’

Iker’s using his Captain voice, as David’s taking to calling it- the one that makes everyone in earshot straighten up a bit and wait for instructions. It’s the one thing Sergio usually obeys without question, but this morning, he’s just coming out of his first good night’s sleep in a few days, and he’s obviously not ready to give it up just yet.

Iker frowns and opens his mouth, probably to say something stern, but David waves him off. ‘Hey, Sese,’ he whispers, leaning in to Sergio’s ear. ‘I’m gonna go make pancakes now. You don’t have to get up, okay? Iker and I will just have breakfast by ourselves and let you sleep until we’re done.’

Sergio’s struggled out of the blankets and sprinted out of the room before he’s finished talking. Iker’s staring at him, starry-eyed, like he’s a miracle worker.

>>> 

Sergio had been a little overwhelmed and too tired the night before to go snooping around the way Iker said he would, but he makes up for it while David’s flipping pancakes. At first Iker tries to apologise for the way he runs around the flat pulling open everything he can reach but David keeps insisting it’s okay until he finally gives up and just leans against the kitchen counter, watching them both.

‘So, you heard my life story last night,’ Iker says, snagging the scarf around Sergio’s neck and the beanie off his head as the boy rushes past. He sets them on the counter with a pile of other things that need to be put back. ‘What’s yours? I’ve never asked why you ended up in Madrid.’

David shrugs, putting another pancake on the plate in the warm oven. ‘There was a transfer opportunity. I took it.’

‘That’s it?’

‘Pretty much,’ he says honestly, copying Iker’s position against the counter as he waits for the next pancake to cook. He filches the beanie from Iker’s pile and tugs it over his messy hair. Iker’s snort is derisive and not even worth acknowledging. ‘I mean, I wasn’t getting on very well with my boss towards the end at all, so that was pretty rough, but I probably would’ve stuck it out- and then this job in Barcelona opened up, and my boss wanted to send me there-‘

‘To _Barcelona_?’

‘Yeah.’

‘What would you have done about football?’ Iker sounds so genuinely lost and confused that David has to laugh, shifting over to drop an arm around his shoulders and tugging him in for a quick squeeze. Iker slides an arm around his waist to squeeze back.

‘I know, right? So that was sort of the last straw, and I hurried up and started shopping around for another job and found this one here with a sister company. I went over my boss’ head and asked for a transfer, and they were happy to agree, so here I am. Pissed off the guys in Barcelona to no end, I can tell you.’

Iker hip-bumps him before letting him go, back to the stove. ‘They wanted you that badly?’

David grins down at the pancakes. ‘Oh, yeah. I think my boss- the one I was fighting with- promised them all kinds of good things about my creative abilities.’

‘So they’d never actually met you, then.’

David squawks and is about to fling pancake batter at him when Sergio wanders in, holding a mismatched pair of David’s earrings and frowning. He jabs one into his ear and David has a moment of genuine panic where he’s positive it’s going to go down Sergio’s ear canal and they’re going to spend the rest of the morning in hospital because of a chavvy diamond stud.

‘How do you make them go in?’ Sergio asks, clearly frustrated that he can’t figure this out. He stabs at his ear again.

David hurries over but Iker’s already there, calmly taking the earrings from Sergio’s hands and putting them in his pocket. He tilts Sergio’s head to look at his ear and David can see it’s red, with a few scratches where he’s been poking at it with the earring posts.

‘Not for playing with, Sergio,’ Iker says firmly.

‘I want to wear them like David,’ Sergio insists, and Iker shoots David a _fix this you arsehole, it’s all your fault_ glare.

Iker has very articulate glares.

David slides the last pancake onto the plate in the oven and turns off the stove before he crouches down, stroking a hand down Sergio’s shoulder and hip just because he remembers what it felt like to have Sergio crawl into his arms in the dark. ‘You can’t put earrings in until you get your ears pierced,’ he explains, and pulls out one of the silver half-circle studs he’s wearing to show off the hole. ‘See? You have to go to a shop and they’ll take you into a back room alone and they have a big, loud machine that punches a big hole right through your ear, right here.’ He pinches Sergio’s earlobe and he’s gentle but his dramatic voice makes up for it, and Sergio’s eyes are huge. ‘We can take you in today to do that, if you want to. Do you want to go get holes cut in your ears so you can wear earrings like me? It doesn’t bleed for very long, I promise.’

He glances over at Iker, expecting some kind of approving nod for scaring his son away from ear piercings, but he doesn’t get one. Iker looks almost as horrified as Sergio.

Sergio bursts into tears.

‘Why do I like you?’ Iker hisses furiously, sweeping Sergio up into his arms and stalking out to pace the lounge with him. Sergio has his hands clapped over his ears as he sobs out that he doesn’t want to wear earrings anymore, _please, please, don’t wanna_ , and David feels awful.

‘Pancakes are ready,’ he offers lamely. He kind of wants to cry, too, because it’s the first time he’s actually fucked up and really upset Sergio before. Somewhere along the line he forgot that he’s had hardly any experience with children before this one. He needs to buy some books.

Then, on the next walk past, Sergio reaches out to him, still sobbing.

It feels like absolution and David quickly steps forward to take him, but Sergio doesn’t want to leave Iker’s hold- he just wants to hug David, too. They stand pressed together so Sergio can throw his arms around David’s neck and they take turns kissing his hair and murmuring soothing nonsense until his wails die down to sniffles.

Sergio pulls back and it breaks David’s heart a little bit to see his puffy red eyes and wet, snotty cheeks. Then his heart snaps clean in two when Sergio reaches out and carefully places his hands over David’s ears and whispers, ‘Do they still hurt?’

He looks desperately at Iker, but Iker’s just got him fixed with a level look like he’s still cross but knows this is better punishment than any he could come up with, so he’s going to wait it out. ‘Oh, love, no, they don’t hurt. I’m so sorry, darling, I didn’t mean to scare you. I won’t let anybody take you away and hurt you, okay?’ He pulls Sergio into his arms and rocks from side to side, rubbing his back. ‘I’m sorry, baby. Nobody’s going to hurt you.’

A hand joins his on Sergio’s back and when he looks up, Iker’s eyes are a little softer.

>>> 

It doesn’t last.

‘You’re a dick,’ Iker tells him flatly in English. Sergio’s in his lap at David’s tiny dining table in one end of the kitchen, eating pancakes and now and then wiping his nose on his sleeve. ‘The only reason I haven’t hit you yet is because I’m still trying to teach Sergio that fighting is wrong. I thought you were going to tell him that earrings are for adults and pirates, not traumatise him!’

‘At least he’ll never want ear piercings now,’ David mutters. He slides another pancake onto Sergio’s plate and drowns it in syrup. ‘Shouldn’t you be pleased about that?’

‘Not if he’s going to have nightmares about it!’

‘Look, what do you want me to do?’

‘I don’t need to ask for anything. You’ll feel bad enough tonight when Sergio wakes up screaming,’ Iker promises. ‘You’re terrible at co-parenting. See if I ever let you exploit him for your parents now.’

‘Wait, were you actually thinking about letting me?’

Iker shrugs and steals the bite of pancake Sergio’s just scooped onto his fork. Sergio gasps and throws up his hands, and syrup flings off his fork right onto David’s shirt. ‘Maybe. I don’t know how we’d keep Fernando from thinking you stole him away, though, and trying to swim to England to go get him back.’

>>> 

They decide, because there’s only half an hour left before Iker needs to leave for school and Sergio’s still a little clingy and overwhelmed, that Sergio and David will both have a sick day and stay home.

‘It’s technically one of your days with him anyway,’ Iker points out as he zips up his jacket. ‘Just, don’t scare him again. Leave him in front of the cartoons and sit with him and don’t say anything stupid. Call me if you’re not sure what ‘stupid’ means.’

David wants to bristle, but he knows he deserves that, so he lets it go. If he’s honest, he’s sort of amazed that Iker’s still willing to leave him alone with Sergio at all. Something of that must show in his face because Iker gives him a sigh and an exasperated smile.

‘Look, it’s not like I’ve never upset him before,’ he says sympathetically. ‘I’ve had almost six years of trial and error. A lot of errors. It’s okay, you’ve been really good with him all this time. You’ve been amazing. He really loves you.’ Iker’s face hardens. ‘But if you scare him like that again, I’ll leave tiny pieces of your body in every province in Spain.’

David’s still reeling when the front door closes.

Sergio loves him.

Iker is really, really scary when he wants to be.

Sergio loves him, for real, and he came to find him last night because he wants David around all the time.

 _Bloody hell,_ David thinks, standing there in his squared and pristine hallway, staring at the door. _I think I’ve accidentally gotten a kid._

His legs don’t feel like they’re working properly as he makes his way back to the lounge. Sergio is wrapped up in a blanket in front of the tv, watching morning cartoons, but he holds his arms up when David comes in and David automatically picks him up to settle him in his lap. He pulls his laptop closer and types a one-handed email to work about not coming in, and his mind is far away, trying to figure out when it stopped being a joke and he started really being something that Sergio thinks is permanent.

‘Are you _my_ kid, too?’ he asks, jostling Sergio a little bit to get his attention. Sergio twists and looks up at him like it’s the silliest question in the world, even sillier than when David heard one of the daycare aides ask him if there was anything else he wanted to do when he grew up besides play football and marry Fernando.

‘Can I have ice cream?’ Sergio asks warily. It’s his default setting, David knows. If he doesn’t know what to say he asks for ice cream. Iker says it’s David’s fault, because he gave Sergio so much of the stuff over the summer that the lad associates it with everyone being happy and warm and together.

David hugs him close, arms wrapped around his middle, and buries his nose in the wild hair. ‘Hey, do you want to go to the park when your show is over? Kick a ball around?’

‘Can we get ice cream?’

‘Sure.’

>>> 

The days are short in early December, even in Spain, but by the time it’s getting too dark to play they’re both tired and happy and cold and ready to go home anyway. Iker’s there when they get back. He’s got a tray of fish and vegetables ready to go in the oven, and David notices that the flat is completely tidied- all the things Sergio pulled out that morning are put away, and the kitchen’s straightened back up where a few things got bumped out of place when he was cooking breakfast. There are still a few things he needs to put right, but it’s more for the satisfaction of fixing it himself than because Iker did it wrong.

Sergio’s clinging to his back because he’s absolutely covered in mud and David doesn’t want him touching the floor until he’s in the bath. He’s chirpy and cheerful, his upset from the morning completely forgotten as he chatters away to Iker all about the goals he scored and the way David slipped (spectacularly) in the mud and fell flat on his back.

‘-and then he when _whoosh_ and then he went _splat_ and his feet went all the way up and the mud splashed _everywhere_ and I had to run all the way over to the trees to get the ball but then there was a puddle-‘

Iker laughs and kisses Sergio’s cheek over David’s shoulder.

Then he smacks a kiss on David’s cheek, too, still laughing, and then of course Sergio has to squirm up and plant a kiss on the other side, and David doesn’t have any free hands to fend either of them off.

‘Hey, why am I getting all the kisses? Kisses are for Seses,’ he protests, and hauls Sergio around under his arm to the front so he can blow a big wet raspberry on Sergio’s belly before kicking off his shoes and heading down the hall to get them both in the shower.

>>> 

They eat supper and put Sergio to bed together and collapse on the sofa in front of match-of-the-day highlights. David’s idly watching some second tier French team react to an outstanding own-goal when he realises he’s not paying attention because he’s thinking about what to make for breakfast the next morning that will make Sergio more happy than cereal but won’t have sticky syrup for Iker to have to clean up.

His breath catches. Iker glances over, eyebrows raised in a question.

‘Just…remembered I need to make a call,’ David says, shooting to his feet and hurrying down the hall to the spare room where he’s left his mobile charging. ‘Only be a mo, yeah?’

He dials Gary’s number with shaking fingers and mutters irritably through three rings until Gary picks up.

_‘Hello?’_

‘Gary. Gary, I think I’ve turned domestic.’

_‘What?’_

‘I’ve got Sergio and Iker here in my flat because their house needed cleaning and it’s only been a day and I’m thinking about menu plans.’

_‘Christ.’_

‘What do I do?’

_‘I think you’re fucked, mate. When’s the wedding?’_

‘Sergio really loves me, he said. Fuck. I think I’m in shock. Twelve hours ago I wasn’t a domesticated adopted parent, I just had a best mate with a fun kid who likes to play football. Bloody hell.’

_‘I thought I was your best friend!’_

‘That’s your response?!’

_‘I’d better be your best man, at least.’_

‘Really helpful, mate, thanks.’

_‘Look, why don’t you come back to London for the holidays? Get away for a bit? It’s just that you’re spending all your time with those two. You never talk about seeing anyone else, I think you’re just spending too much time with them.’_

‘I don’t know if I can…there’s some Christmas markets and festivals and stuff here I wanted to go to.’

_‘C’mon, I’ve got a friend of a friend I think you’d like. Take a couple weeks off and come see what you think.’_

‘…Yeah. Yeah, alright.’

_‘Good.’_

David plugs his mobile back into the charger and drops down next to Iker in front of the tv. He waves off the curious look.

‘Just had to talk to a mate back home,’ he says, trying to sound casual. ‘He’s making some arrangements for me. I’m going back for the holidays.’

Iker doesn’t look upset, but beyond that, David can’t read him. ‘You get to tell Sergio,’ he says, and David’s stomach plummets.

‘Shit.’

‘No, it’s not that bad. I don’t think he’s expecting to spend Christmas with you. We always split the time between going to my parents and Fernando coming over, and he’s still too young for it to be about anything other than getting presents. He just thinks he’s going to wake up on Christmas morning and find a unicorn standing next to the tree.’

‘Where the fuck did he get this idea about English people and unicorns?!’

‘I don’t know. But there’s a teacher named Xabi who helps out in daycare sometimes and insists on reading English books at story time. Once I caught him showing Sergio videos of Liverpool goals on his phone. I’m blaming him on principle until we find out anything else.’


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no wifi at home because my router broke, and the library closes in 15 minutes! That's why it's a bit short.  
> When’s the last time you googled ‘Classy Xabi’? I feel so inadequate and slovenly right now.

Friday goes without incidents, Sergio toddling off to daycare and David sketching out a new logo for a health club based on the angles he likes to take for midfield set pieces. But Sergio crawls in with David again that night. He’s not lonely like Wednesday, or crying and hyperventilating through a nightmare about being chased by evil ear piercers like Thursday (and hadn’t David felt like the worst person in the world when Sergio had to be pulled in and tucked underneath him, hidden away, with David’s hand covering his visible ear before he’d sleep again?).

He just wanders in around midnight, eyes barely open, and curls up against David’s ribs with a yawn.

David waits until he’s asleep and carries him back to Iker, who’s already awake and reading a novel by the light of his mobile.

‘Oh,’ Iker says, surprised. ‘You beat me to it. I was going to wait until you were both asleep, then go grab him back.’

David looks down at the boy cradled in his arms. He’s a little bit drunk because after they put Sergio to bed he and Iker decided to play a drinking game based on every time a Chelsea player took a dive, so he’s maybe swaying a little on his feet, but his grip on the kid is steady. Sergio’s caught hold loosely of his t-shirt in his sleep. ‘This isn’t going to work,’ he tells Iker. ‘He’s just going to keep bed hopping and you and I won’t get any sleep.’

‘I’m sorry. It was nice of you to do this, but if I go stay somewhere else-’

‘No, don’t be stupid. I didn’t mean you have to leave. We just need to get him to stay in one place through the night instead of going back and forth.’

There’s only one solution, really, but David makes a valiant effort to look like he’s thinking of another. Iker plays along with a serious frown.

Then they both eye his double bed.

David sighs.

‘Budge up, then.’

Iker shifts over. David settles Sergio in the middle of the bed and climbs in after him, pulling his side of the covers up over them both. The light on Iker’s phone goes off.

‘We’re never mentioning this to anyone, ever,’ David mutters into the dark.

Iker snorts. ‘Remind Sese of that before he goes to school on Monday and tells everyone he meets.’

David thinks about putting an arm around Sergio but figures Iker’ll do it, and he doesn’t want to crush the kid under both their weights, so he slides a hand down and grabs one of Sergio’s feet, stroking a finger down the length. It must tickle because Sergio snuffles and kicks. David plays with his toes instead. ‘Hey, baby,’ he whispers. ‘You’re so little. How are you still so happy all the time even though you’re so little? Don’t even wanna let you on the ground ‘cos you’re so little and sweet. Tiny little sweet baby toes.’

‘David, shut the fuck up,’ Iker mumbles. ‘I know you’re drunk but if you keep talking like you want to eat him I’m going to feel obligated to kick you out of bed, and I’m too tired.’

>>> 

David usually sleeps in on Saturday mornings, because he’s usually stayed up so late the night before.

Sergio isn’t like that.

‘PAPA!!! DAVID!!!’

 _I’m deaf,_ he thinks, and keeps his eyes tight shut. Nobody should have to see the sun this early on a Saturday.

‘Sergio, indoor voice.’ Iker’s voice is close by and quiet, but David doesn’t know if the volume is because Iker’s demonstrating ‘indoor voice’ for Sergio or because his eardrums are broken.

‘Sorry. Good morning, papa.’ There’s some shuffling and the bed shifts as Sergio crawls around. David hears a smacking kiss and a soft, ‘Good morning, nene.’ Then Sergio comes back and climbs up onto his belly, and David gets a wet kiss on the cheek, too. ‘Good morning, David.’

David thinks about answering. For one, long second, he seriously considers opening his eyes and saying ‘good morning, what do you want to do today?’ and getting out of bed to go start breakfast.

He wraps his arms around Sergio, flattening the boy to his chest, and rolls over.

‘Go back to sleep, Sergio,’ he orders, and tries to settle back down.

Sergio just giggles. He’s muffled because he’s completely squashed between David’s body and the mattress. He tries to squirm his way out like it’s a game, and one of his knees catches David right in the gut.

 _‘Oof_. Iker.’ David finally opens his eyes to glare blearily at the man watching, amused, from the other side of the bed, and switches to English. ‘Why the fuck is your son awake this early on a fucking Saturday? Why have you not taught him that weekends are for sleeping in yet?’

Iker rolls his eyes. He looks comfortable and alert and it’s not fair. ‘That’s how children work. He’s going to naturally wake up early until he’s a teenager, and then I’ll be dragging him out of bed.’

David pushes his face into the pillow and groans for as long as he has breath.

‘David. David, I think you’re suffocating him.’

>>> 

Iker offers to make breakfast so David throws himself grumpily across the sofa. Sergio kneels on the floor next to his head and stares at him.

‘Are you okay?’ he asks, and it’s kind of sweet how concerned he sounds.

‘He’s sad because he doesn’t think he gets to do anything fun today,’ Iker calls from the kitchen. ‘But he doesn’t know that I have to write up first-term performance evaluations all day today, so I’m going to use him for free childcare.’

‘You abuse me,’ David yells back. ‘You take advantage of my good-hearted nature.’

‘No, I take advantage of the fact that you adopted my son without asking.’ Iker brings out two bowls of yoghurt, fruit, and granola and hands them to David and Sergio. Sergio settles cross-legged on the floor to eat his, but David frowns.

‘Since when do I have granola?’

‘Since I brought it.’ Iker comes back with his own bowl and pushes David’s legs off the sofa so he can sit down. ‘Otherwise you’d be feeding Sergio pancakes and eggs every morning. He’s going to end up with English teeth and cholesterol if you keep doing that.’

‘He runs around too much to have bad cholesterol.’

‘I’m retracting the part on his school forms about you being allowed to give medical advice. I really do need to spend today writing up grading reviews, though,’ Iker says. ‘Are you okay to watch Sergio today? I can manage if you have plans.’

David marvels that he’s such a _nice_ person, he honestly looks apologetic when he asks, even though it’s become obvious that David can’t really say no.

>>> 

After breakfast, Sergio decides that he wants to practise cartwheels down the long hallway, so David grabs him and flips him over and carries him over to Iker, swinging him by the ankles.

‘Hey, do you mind if we go out for a while? Most of the day, probably.’

‘I’m hoping you will. I won’t get any work done here if you two are running around making a mess.’

‘It’s my flat, why would I make a mess?’

‘That’s what you do at _my_ house.’

‘…Fair enough.’

‘Are you going to the park, then?’ Iker asks. He’s all settled in on the sofa with a stack of forms, a sheaf of notes, and two biros, because Iker’s the kind of well-controlled person who actually keeps extra pens at the ready. He also eyes his son like maybe he should intervene sometime soon.

‘Nah.’ Sergio’s face is getting very red but he’s still giggling and squealing for faster swinging, so David leaves him upside down. ‘I thought we might go shopping. You know. For clothes.’

Iker actually drops his pen. He stares up at him. ‘You want to take a five-year-old boy _shopping_.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, I need a couple things, and I thought it would be fun to get some things for Sese at the same time.’

Iker shakes his head and goes back to his forms. ‘I have some parenting books I think you should read, but you seem like the kind of person to learn better through experience. Call me if it gets too bad.’

It turns out that Iker rarely has Sergio with him when he buys their clothes, and they definitely don’t go to David’s kind of shops, so Sergio’s excited to do something new. David takes Iker’s offer of a debit card and throws it back at his head for being ridiculous. He takes a minute in front of the mirror to put on a beanie and scarf, then he bundles Sergio into scarf, hat, and mittens (all plain boring fleece, and David decides those will definitely have to go), zips up his jacket, and throws him over his shoulder.

‘Let him be upright sometimes, okay?’ Iker says, leaning in the doorway to see them off. ‘I don’t know what it will do to his brain if you keep him upside down all the time. Love you, Sese. Be good.’

>>> 

When they get in his car, Sergio starts playing with the radio buttons, and asks how it works.

David shows him.

He regrets it. Sergio spends the entire ride stuck on a traditional music station, bellowing out flamenco songs at the top of his lungs with all the wrong words.

They go to a mall, because David’s never shopped for children’s clothing before, and he _thinks_ he has an idea what Sergio might like but he’s not sure. Lots of stores are better than one.

First, of course, because it’s a mall, they stop at the food court and get cinnamon pretzels. Sergio shoves pieces of dough into his mouth until his cheeks puff out while David scans one of the reader boards, plotting out a route.

‘Okay. I think this one looks good, I remember a mate talking about this one when he had to get stuff for his kids…you ready to go, Sese?’

Sergio blinks up at him. He’s got cinnamon sugar covering his face and all down the front of his shirt.

David thinks about the backpack he always teases Iker for carrying- the one with cleaning wipes and extra little socks and shoes.

So they make a stop in the toilets for a quick wash, and set off.

The first shop he picks is just the thing, he thinks. It’s a Scandinavian brand and all the tiny shirts and trousers are brightly coloured and come in every pattern under the sun. Not a single black hoodie or plain pair of jeans in sight.

Sergio gets a little overwhelmed at the colour explosion and the loud, cheerful kids’ music in the shop, so David keeps hold of his hand and grabs a basket while the boy gets his bearings. He crouches down and taps Sergio’s cheek to bring him back from trying to take everything in.

‘Hey,’ he says, and he has to smile at the way Sergio’s starting to fidget eagerly. ‘Alright, here’s how this is going to work: you go on and look around at everything, okay? All four walls and everything in the middle. Anything you like the look of, you bring back to me and I’ll put it in our basket here, and then at the end we’ll find the right sizes and you can try it all on. Okay? Sound good?’

Sergio grins at him and sprints off, so David figures he’s fine. He settles down with his basket in one of the chairs the shop has positioned around a little table in the middle of the floor and picks up one of the catalogues to pass the time.

>>> 

Sergio’s like a kid in a candy shop, rather than a clothing one, and it makes David laugh every time he comes back to throw a shirt at David’s head before tearing off again. He makes a heaping pile on David’s basket and keeps running back for more. Some of the things, David can tell from a glance, will have to go back- Sergio just doesn’t need a ski suit, and he’d rather wait on summer shorts, because there are months left before he’ll need them and David knows enough about children to know they grow fast.

David catches that thought- he wants to _wait-_ he’s automatically planning on still being around, taking Sergio shopping, in six months’ time- and he’s a little surprised at how it doesn’t feel odd at all.

Sergio comes running from behind his chair with an armload and drops it in David’s lap with an ‘ _oof_.’ He’s red-cheeked, huffing and panting a little, and David smooths back his hair. ‘Getting tired? Here, come here.’ He pulls Sergio up onto the arm of the chair and Sergio leans in against his shoulder. ‘Show me what you’ve got now, then.’

Sergio chatters happily about each piece of clothing while David picks through them. This time there’s a bright orange t-shirt with red sleeves and a guitar on the front, a bright purple plaid shirt with white flowers embroidered on the back of the shoulders, bright green trousers with a faint yellow paisley pattern.

David was definitely right about the colours thing. Iker might be better at feeding and obedience-training his kid, but David’s better at dressing him.

Then he gets to the bottom of the pile, and there’s a baby pink t-shirt. It has a darker pink picture of a little dog on the front and a bright green stripes around the bottom and sleeve hems. It’s clearly from the girls’ section.

‘-and that one has a dog like the one from the park and the dog that me an' Nando are gonna get and so I liked it,’ Sergio finishes. David holds it up with the rest for a second look.

‘Are you sure about all of these?’ he asks calmly.

‘Yep!’ Sergio beams at him. David isn’t sure what he could’ve said anyway, but he knows there’s really nothing at all _to_ say with that smile on Sergio’s face. He puts the pink t-shirt in the basket.

When they go up to the counter to ring up everything they’ve decided on, the cashier eyes the pink top with puzzlement. She makes to put it off to the side like it fell in their basket on accident, but David stops her. She looks confused, then appalled.

David crosses his arms over his chest and stares her down.

Sergio, holding on to David’s belt loops and swinging off his hip, doesn’t notice.

>>> 

Sergio gets so much excitement at the mall that when they finally make it back to David’s flat, loaded down with bags, he throws himself at Iker, tells him very rapidly how much fun he had, then toddles off to the bedroom and puts himself down for a nap.

Iker’s amazed.

David figures he deserves a beer, and brings one back for Iker, as well.

‘So,’ he says, stepping over the mountain of shopping bags to get to the sofa. Iker’s piles of forms and notes have mostly switched from one side of the table to the other since they’ve been gone. It looks like he’s nearly done.

‘So. It looks like you bought out an entire store.’

‘Not quite. We did good, though.’ David takes a long drink and leans his head back on the sofa. ‘All nice, bright, colourful stuff. Sergio needs colourful stuff. He’s a nice, bright, colourful kid.’

Iker hums. ‘This is like you with Fernando’s hair, isn’t it?’

‘Hey! He looks better now, doesn’t he? And he likes it.’ David gets up and digs around in the bags for a minute until he finds the pink t-shirt. He balls it up in his hands, wondering what he’ll do if Iker says that Sergio can’t have it.

Sergio likes it. That’s all that matters, surely?

David tosses the t-shirt into Iker’s lap and hops over the back of the sofa to sit next to him. He gestures at the shirt. ‘I let Sergio pick everything out by himself. He picked out that.’

Iker unfolds the t-shirt and holds it out, looking it over. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyebrows draw in.

David chews his lip.

Iker sighs and tosses the top over his shoulder into the pile of bags. ‘This is all your fault,’ he mutters.

David’s fists clench. If Iker’s honestly upset, then he’s not half the man David thought he was, and he’s going to storm into the bedroom and grab Sergio and-

‘My poor baby didn’t even know what fashion and hair gel _were_ until he met you,’ Iker moans, dropping his head back on the sofa. ‘You’ve corrupted my pure, unmaterialistic son. He'll probably want _videogames_ now. You’re trying to turn him into an English degenerate like you so you can run away with him.’

David laughs and throws a cushion at his head.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some ‘research’ last chapter on Ramos’ more…unique…outfits and thought I’d share a few (also seriously, wtf Ramos?):  
> http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_l7eoah99vu1qc85cs.jpg  
> http://i762.photobucket.com/albums/xx268/unamadridista/sergioguticumple.jpg  
> http://i1295.photobucket.com/albums/b638/Ladya_C_Maxine/975b4d99-c83d-4273-a6f1-b2414e715725_zps88459f2f.jpg  
> http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2013/11/14/article-2507085-1964B4AD00000578-12_634x907.jpg  
> http://c11.ilbe.com/files/attach/new/20130421/2414319/_222235151150/1109600524/5a1a02aa9cafffefc8c7da49c686187c.jpg  
> http://i762.photobucket.com/albums/xx268/unamadridista/unamadridista8/dtlux2012-0605.jpg  
> Everybody send good vibes to your fellow readers wills, who’s in final exams, and phoenixpax, who’s about to take massive graduate tests! Also, this chapter is now officially a Happy Birthday gift to Rose!

David’s no coward, but he buys his ticket to London before he tells Sergio he’s leaving.

It’s not like he’s afraid of Sergio’s reaction, or anything- he just thinks that Sergio will probably be sad to hear that he’ll be gone for a couple of weeks, and he _knows_ that he has no willpower when it comes to a Sergio with big, pleading eyes and trembling lip.

The part where he waits for a day where he’s got both Sergio _and_ Fernando, though, so that Sergio’s distracted- that might be a bit cowardly.

After work he drives straight to Iker’s. He’s begged the boys from their parents for the afternoon because the darker roots of Fernando’s hair are growing out, and David wants to redo the bleaching so he’ll look nice for Christmas photos.

David’s not sure why everyone’s convinced he’s trying to steal Sergio (and they are- even with Iker’s forms, he still gets suspicious looks when he does the school run). Fernando would make more sense at this point. After a few months of knowing each other, they’ve now got the same bleach-blond hair, both just long enough to brush their shoulders; they both love their baggy shorts and grey plaid shirts. Fernando, not Sergio, likes David’s British music that he plays on his laptop, and Fernando’s picking up English much more quickly than Sergio.

If David were the one observing, he’d think Fernando were the one in danger of being surprise adopted. Of course, at the moment he’s got Sergio’s signed artwork in marker tattoos around his ankles, so maybe not.

He’s spent more time searching around online and found that a mix of certain types of tea and henna should get the same golden colour as lemon juice in just one or two goes without needing any sunlight. Iker sidles up and leans over his shoulder to watch him mix the powders into a paste while the Sergio and Fernando try to do handstands outside.

‘Are you sure that’s right?’ Iker asks. His nose is wrinkled. ‘I don’t think you can put that on his head. He’ll pass out from the smell.’

David scoops up a fingerful of paste and makes to flick it at him. Iker leaps out of the way with a yelp.

‘Don’t get my clothes dirty!’

David leans back against the kitchen counter and looks him up and down. Unusually for Iker, he’s wearing black trousers and a nice enough white shirt. They’re bland and generic and don’t fit him very well, but it’s more dressed up than David’s ever seen him. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Parent conference.’ Keeping a wary eye on the henna paste, Iker edges past him and pours himself a cup of coffee from the pot. ‘One of the older girls I coach is really amazing at basketball. I think she has a chance to go pro if she tries. Her mom and dad aren’t unsupportive but they don’t think it’s realistic, so I’m trying to change their minds. We’re meeting with a coach from a women’s pro seeder team today to talk about it.’

‘Hm.’ David takes in Iker’s outfit again. ‘Mate, we can do better than that. C’mere.’ He rinses his hands and leads the way back to Iker’s bedroom, and starts flicking through his closet. ‘You want to look serious, right? Serious but relaxed. Cool. All I’m getting from you right now is waiter at a cheap wedding reception.’ He pulls out a pair of dark, narrow-legged jeans and throws them on the bed. ‘Put those on for a start. Your trousers are terrible.’

‘I can’t wear those, they’re too small. I just haven’t gotten around to putting them in one of the charity bins yet.’ Iker’s clutching at his sleeves like his awful, oversized shirt will protect him from David’s designs.

‘They’ll be fine,’ David insists. ‘I’ve got a good eye for sizes. Put them on. And…ugh, why have you not got any better shirts? Here, take this.’ He thrusts out a thin wool jumper. It’s a bit rumpled because it was stuffed in the back. Iker glares at it.

‘I never wear that. It was a present.’

‘I guessed,’ David says patiently, ‘from the way it was buried behind literally everything you own. Come on, put it on.’

‘It’s a terrible colour!’

‘It’s light green. It’ll bring out the hazel in your eyes.’ Iker won’t take the jumper so David scoops up the jeans as well and shoves them both into his arms. ‘Change,’ he orders. ‘You want to make a good impression on this girl’s parents, right? Trust me. This is better.’

Iker looks a bit exasperated, but David doesn’t budge. Finally Iker takes the clothes with a sigh and starts toeing off his shoes. David heads back to the kitchen and his hair dye.

>>> 

Before he leaves, Iker lets David give him one last once-over. The jeans are definitely snug but Iker’s got long legs, and he runs around coaching sports all day, so they look good. The jumper hides the bad fit of the shirt and the whole outfit together makes him look cool and friendly. Something’s still off, though. It takes David a minute to figure out what’s wrong, but when he does, he’s in luck with a solution. He unbuckles his belt.

Iker pales. ‘What are you doing?’

David gestures to his waist. ‘Quick, take off your belt. We’ve only got a couple minutes before Sergio and Nando come back inside.’

Iker’s mouth falls open a little and he stares, wide-eyed, but his hands drop to his belt.

David gets his undone first and sweeps it out from his belt loops. He grabs Iker’s buckle and pulls his out, too, then tries to hand his own over.

Iker just blinks at him.

‘Belt,’ David says insistently, and shakes it at him. ‘Come on. Put it on.’ He slides Iker’s boring, too-narrow, plain black belt with the plain silver buckle around his hips to keep his trousers up. For some reason, Iker’s cheeks are a little red, but he quickly does up David’s broad brown leather belt, adjusting the heavy brass buckle until it fits. David steps back and nods. The belt is the last touch it needed. He gives Iker a satisfied swat on the arse. ‘Perfect. That’s better. That’s gorgeous. You’re all set, mate.’

At that moment the back door opens and two little bodies tumble into the kitchen. David’s off like a shot.

‘Oh no you don’t, you two. Don’t take another step, you hear me? I _saw_ you practising tackles in the mud!’

He gets one boy over his shoulder and the other under his arm before they have a chance to spread muck past a few filthy footprints in the kitchen. They wave happily to Iker as he heads past to toss them both in the bath.

>>> 

‘So, Sergio. What are you doing for Christmas?’

Sergio looks up to David, sitting on the sofa with his laptop. He and Fernando are lying on their bellies on the floor putting a puzzle together. Fernando’s head is wrapped in clingfilm to keep the henna paste from getting on anything else. ‘We’re going to abuelo José and abuela María’s house,’ Sergio says, and he sounds like he thinks David should already know this. ‘And then Nando’s coming over and we get special breakfast and more presents.’

‘What’s special breakfast?’

‘Me and Sese make it,’ Fernando announces. ‘Señor Iker can’t come in ‘til we’re done.’

David’s a little sorry he’ll have to miss that. Then he thinks about the state the kitchen will be in afterwards, and he isn’t sorry at all.

Besides, he can probably get the boys to cook him breakfast another time. With him and a mop two steps behind them.

‘That sounds nice,’ he says. ‘What are you doing, Fernando?’

‘We’re going to my abuelo’s in Fuenlabrada.’ Fernando has to sound the name out carefully and he pauses with his puzzle piece to do it. ‘And then I come here and we watch movies and make special breakfast.’

‘Awesome.’ David sets his laptop aside. He steels himself. ‘It sounds like you two are going to have fun. I hope I have fun at my parents’, too.’

He can see from their faces that Fernando gets it right away. Sergio frowns, though, trying to work out why this doesn’t sound right.

‘Where do your parents live?’ Sergio asks.

‘In England.’

‘Oh.’ Sergio’s still frowning. David realises that Sergio doesn’t actually have any frame of reference for how far away England really is. He’s going to have to say it straight.

‘I’m going home to my family for the holidays,’ he explains. ‘In a few days I’m going to leave to go back to England, and I’ll come back about the same time you two go back to school.’

Sergio’s frown twists like he’s not sure if he wants to argue or pout. ‘Why?’

‘Because…’ It looks like Iker was wrong about Sergio not expecting David to be part of their holidays. ‘Sergio, you’re spending Christmas with _your_ family, right? And Fernando’s going to spend Christmas with _his_ family, and I’m going to spend the holidays with _my_ family. We’re all doing the same thing, my family’s just a little farther away.’

Sergio seems to finally understand that David is leaving. His scowl sets and he crosses his arms. ‘No!’

‘Sese, even if I stayed, you wouldn’t see me, would you? I can’t go to your family’s house, and when you’re not there you’ll be here with Fernando. You wouldn’t see me.’

‘No!’ Sergio’s up and kneeling now, fists clenched, and his face is turning red. David’s worried he has a tantrum on his hands if he doesn’t get this right. Fernando sits up too and for a second David’s hopeful that the older boy can help calm Sergio down, but-

‘Aren’t you family, too?’ Fernando asks.

Sergio nods furiously at Fernando like he’s just solved everything, and looks up hopefully at David. ‘Yeah! You’re family, so you can come with us to abuelo’s. And we have to give you your presents so you have to be there!’

‘Oh, you-’ David shifts forward on the sofa and scrubs a hand over his face. ‘I’m not _really_ your family, though, am I, Sese? I’m just a friend. Just like Fernando isn’t really your family, he’s just a good friend. Your papa told you that when you stayed over last week, remember?’

Sergio nods again, eager. ‘Yeah. Like me and Nando.’

‘Yeah. I mean- no, no no no, not like you and Nando. I’m- look, Sergio, I just can’t come with you, okay?’

That tips the balance from angry to sad. Sergio’s eyes well up and his _‘Why?’_ comes out as a whimper. Fernando scoots over and throws his arms around Sergio’s shoulders. He glares at David.

‘Because…oh, come on, Sese, don’t be like that, please? I can’t be your family for real just because I think of you like we are. It doesn’t work that way.’

He reaches out but Fernando leans them back, scowling like he’ll bite David’s fingers if he gets any closer or upsets Sergio any more, so David opens his arms wider and pulls both of them into his lap at once. Sergio leans into his chest but Fernando just clings on to Sergio and turns defiantly away.

It’d be cute how determined he is to protect Sergio if the younger boy weren’t so upset.

David rocks them from side to side a little. ‘I’m sorry, baby,’ he murmurs, and kisses Sergio’s hair. ‘It’s okay, though, isn’t it? You’re going to be here getting presents and playing with Nando all the time, you won’t even think about me. And I promise you can call me every night and tell me what you’ve done all day, okay?’

Sergio mumbles something he can’t hear, but it doesn’t sound so miserable, so he takes it as agreement.

‘Okay? I want to hear all about what presents you get. Both of you.’

Sergio sits up and wipes his runny nose on David’s shirt. Fernando looks a little pacified, so David figures that means Sergio will be okay. He squeezes both of them in a tight hug. Then he gets up and carries them into the kitchen on his hips.

‘Right, who wants hot chocolate before we rinse out Nando’s hair?’

>>> 

Sergio’s calm the next few days. Then Iker insists on driving David to the airport so he won’t have to leave his car there or pay for a cab, and so they can say goodbye. He drops David and Sergio off at the doors and goes off to find a space in the parking garage while they check in David’s bags. Then they stop at the security gate to wait for Iker, and Sergio falls apart.

‘Sese,’ David sighs. People are throwing them pitying glances as they pass, or glaring like David should be embarrassed by his kid’s behaviour, but Sergio’s crying in great bawling sobs and David can’t stand it. He drops his shoulder bag to the floor, kneels down, and scoops Sergio into his arms. ‘Come on, Sese, don’t cry, please? I’m only going to be away for a couple weeks. I promise, you won’t even notice I’m gone. I’ll be back before you know it.’

‘I don’t want you to go!’

‘Sese, baby, come on, I have to go home for a little while.’

‘Then let’s _go_ home!’

‘Oh, love…come on, I need you to be tough or you’re going to make _me_ cry, okay?’

Sergio pushes his head under David’s chin and his sobs turn into hitching sniffles like he’s trying to hold them back. David strokes his hair and wonders when he turned into the sad bloke sitting on the floor of an air terminal saying goodbye to the kids.

‘Okay?’

David looks up. Iker’s found them. He picks David’s bag up from the floor and slings it over his shoulder.

‘I think…why am I even going home, anyway? I wanted to stay here and go on the Navibus and check out El Corte Ingles. If I go home it’ll just be dinners with a lot of cousins I don’t like and my grandmother getting drunk on sherry. Maybe I should stay.’

Iker rolls his eyes. ‘You’re going home to see your family for the first time in almost a year.’ He puts an arm around David’s shoulders to haul him up to his feet. Sergio clings around David’s neck to stay close and he has to lean back into Iker a bit to compensate for Sergio’s weight when gets up. ‘You can’t stay here.’

‘ _Why_ can’t he stay here?’ Sergio asks, and he sounds so miserable that David has to squeeze him and press kisses on his cheek. ‘He can come home with us.’

Iker sighs and pets his son’s head. ‘Our house isn’t his home, nene. You know that. You stayed at his apartment.’

‘Why _not_?’ Sergio wriggles and David loosens his grip a bit so Sergio can sit back in his arms and plead with him face to face. ‘You can have our home. I can move my toy box and we can put a bed there instead and you can have my room with me.’

David wants to groan. He’s never been great with confrontations. With another bloke, he can usually just set his stance and shout the other guy down. He comes out fine in the odd pub row. When he’s had a girl get upset at him before, he’s always just got awkward and shuffled his feet and waited for her to storm off.

He doesn’t know what to do with Sergio here. Iker’s been a father for almost six years, though. David looks over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows to beg for help.

Iker looks thoughtful.

David feels suddenly very wary.

‘Do you rent or own your place?’ Iker asks.

David stares at him.

‘You’re at our house almost every day anyway,’ Iker points out. ‘You make dinner most of the time now. You only go back to your apartment to sleep and change clothes. We’re closer to your office, as well.’

This is true, when David thinks about it. For some reason he hasn’t noticed before that he’s been turning his car towards Iker’s every day after work on autopilot, or that he just assumes he’s spending every weekend there. But- ‘I can’t move in with you.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because- because there’s no space! I can’t actually sleep in Sergio’s room.’

‘ _Why_?’ Sergio asks sulkily. He’s completely stopped crying, though, and he seems to understand that something big’s going on, so he keeps mostly quiet and still.

‘There is space,’ Iker says. ‘The house is where I grew up. My parents let me buy it from them when they moved away. Sergio’s in my younger brother’s old room, and my old room is upstairs in the attic.’

‘You have an attic?’ David feels like he’s reeling.

‘Yeah. Through that door off the kitchen. I shared with Unai when we were young, then my dad and I finished the attic into a bedroom when I was in my teens.’ Iker’s looking more and more convinced by his own argument. ‘It’s just a storage room right now but we can clear it out. It’s the whole attic so you’d have plenty of your own space. It’s nice. The only reason I’m still using my parents’ old room instead of that one is because I don’t want stairs between me and Sergio at night.’

Iker looks excited. Sergio looks like all his Christmas presents have come early. ‘So,’ David starts. ‘So…we’d be flatmates.’

Iker shrugs. ‘Sure. Sese will probably tell everybody at school that we’re a family now, but he says that anyway. And the house is paid for, so you don’t need to pay rent or anything. And you won’t be paying rent for an apartment that you’re never at. You can save your money to buy Sergio more ice cream and destroy his teeth.’

Sergio perks up.

David thinks. He’s not very good at weighing pros and cons or anything like that, really. He’s better at quickly making a decision and sticking with it.

When it comes down to it, Iker’s right- he’s hardly ever at his flat, and why spend the money if he doesn’t need to? He doesn’t think he and Iker have the type of friendship where they’ll suddenly fall out one day and he’ll be stuck without a place to stay. And if he has that much space to himself, bringing someone over wouldn’t be a problem, either.

‘Okay,’ he says. ‘Yeah, okay. Why not?’ He grins down at Sergio. ‘Hey, Sese, I’m gonna come live with you.’

Sergio _shrieks_ and throws his arms around David’s neck. David goes deaf on his right side and Iker has to pull Sergio off him before he chokes. Sergio squirms to the floor and hugs David’s legs instead.

‘After he comes back from the holidays,’ Iker tells him, but Sergio keeps beaming.

‘I’m gonna move my toy box,’ he promises.

David laughs and kneels down and hugs him again, keeping those octopus arms away from his neck. ‘You don’t have to move anything, love. We’ll take care of it all when I get back, okay? And you’re going to call me every night and tell me what you’ve been up to, right?’

Sergio nods seriously. ‘Right.’

David gets back to his feet and reaches out for his bag. Instead, Iker scoots under his open arm and pulls him into a hug.

They’ve never _hugged_ before. David’s startled. _Spanish,_ he thinks. _Spanish, not English. Right._ He wraps his arms around Iker’s shoulders and hugs back. Iker palms his face and kisses his cheek before he pulls away. ‘Have a good trip. We’ll be here to pick you up when you get back,’ he says, and David finds that they’re both smiling. Iker lifts Sergio up onto his hip and because Iker’s done it, he kisses them _both_ on the cheek for one last goodbye before he hikes his bag up on his shoulder and turns away to the security gate.

Iker and Sergio wait on the other side of the barrier, Sergio waving furiously with both hands, while he presents his ID to the security agent.

‘You have a beautiful family,’ she says, glancing back at them.

He doesn’t correct her.

>>> 

David’s unpacking his bags in his parents’ spare room when his mobile rings.

‘Hello?’

_‘Hey, how was the trip?’_

‘Fine, got here fine. Just got to my mum and dad’s and putting away my things. What’s up?’

 _‘Somebody’s missing you already and wanted to say hi._ ’

‘Awww. That’s good of you, mate. Seriously, that’s really nice.’

_‘I meant Sergio.’_

‘Oh.’

_‘Also I’m hoping you can tell him that he doesn’t need to get the house ready for you.’_

‘What’s he doing?’

_‘Writing the name of every room on all the doors so you know where things are. Moving everything in his bedroom to one side so there’s space for you if you decide to share with him after all. Throwing out everything in the fridge that he hasn’t seen you eat before in case you don’t like it and decide to leave because you don’t think we eat good food.’_

‘Oh. I’ll tell him if he keeps moving things around he won’t have space for all the presents I bring back for him.’

 _‘Oh- you know you don’t have to get him anything_ , _right? It’s nice of you, but-’_

‘Don’t be stupid, of course I do. I’ve already stopped at the Man U shop on the way here.’

_‘If you bring back anything with a United crest on it I’ll kick you out before you get a chance to move in.’_


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m soooo sorry for the break! I got swamped with homework. Majorly stressing out there…ugh. So, yeah. Long break and sort of rushed chapter.  
> Side note just because: this is one of my favourite Iker/Becks photos ever.  
> Iker: What do you think it is? David: I don’t know. Should I poke it? Iker: Let’s see what happens!  
> http://images5.fanpop.com/image/photos/25400000/David-and-Iker-Casillas-david-beckham-25494109-467-704.jpg

On his first night back in London, David has a quiet dinner with his parents. He and his dad talk about work, his mum makes pointed comments about his hair until he agrees to get a trim, they watch a bit of telly. David goes for a jog through the neighbourhood to work off the restlessness he always gets from travelling, and the familiar sights and sounds and grimy feel of London settle back under his skin. Chips, cigarettes, Radio 1, everyone in their plain black jackets dodging puddles on the pavement. He gets back in time for one last cup of tea before bed.

On his second night, his mates drag him out to the pub.

Most of the crowd has had a few already and it’s loud and glorious and David realises he’s missed this a lot, jeering at the table of Arsenal shirts and picking up pints without thinking about needing to babysit first thing in the morning.

Maybe Gary’s right. They’ve been a bit weird recently, he and Iker. He _kissed_ the man in the airport, for fuck’s sake. And he’s maybe been a little too serious with Sergio. Maybe he just needs some time away from them.

An elbow knocks into his side.

‘Dave, is that your mobile?’

For the first time, he notices the tinny sound coming from his pocket. ‘Oh- shit, yeah, hang on-’

One of the lads down the bar waves his pint in the air and yells out, ‘Tell them to fuck off! No mobiles at boy’s night!’

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah, hang on.’ David hops off his bar stool and shuffles through the crowd packed in around them, swiping at his phone screen and pressing it to his ear. He can hardly hear anything over the music and chatter. ‘Just let me get outside so I can hear- hello?’

_‘HI!!!’_

David only knows one voice that can reach that volume. He pushes through the door and steps out into the sharp night air, breath clouding around him. ‘Ow. Hi, Sese!’

_‘Hey, give that- Sese, give me the phone.’_

_‘No! HI, DAVID!!!’_

_‘Sergio!’_ There’s the sound of footsteps and giggling, then Iker’s voice again, coming through clearly this time. _‘Sorry, David, he grabbed the phone and ran off with it as soon as it started ringing.’_

‘You’re holding him upside down, aren’t you?’

_‘It works for you.’_

_‘Papa, give it back! I have to tell him about the puppy!’_

‘Dave!’ One of the lads half-falls through the door, laughing. ‘Davy-boy, tell ‘em to fuck off and get back in here! We’ve got another round!’

_‘Sorry, is this a bad time? We can call later…’_

‘No, no, no, it’s fine,’ David says. He waves back at the crowd inside and quickly steps around the corner. ‘I’m just at the pub with some mates, they’re all getting a bit rowdy. Anyway, it must be Sergio’s bedtime any minute. What did he want to tell me about?’

_‘If you’re sure. Here, I’ll let him…nene, here you go.’_

_‘DAVID!!!’_

‘Ow. Sergio, love, I promise I can hear you even if you don’t shout, okay?’

_‘I’m gonna get a puppy!’_

‘Really? I didn’t think your papa was going to let you have your own pet just yet.’

_‘No, it’s gonna be your puppy. ‘Cus I told papa if we get you a puppy you’ll feel more at home here and I’ll take care of it so you don’t have to and it can sleep in my bed.’_

‘That’s, er…that’s really nice of you, Sese. What does Iker say about it?’

_‘I say he can take care of a puppy as soon as he can put all of his own clothes on the right way.’_

_‘I can!!’_

_‘Sergio, your shoes were on the wrong feet this morning and your shirt is still backwards.’_

_‘I like it that way!’_

‘David! Dave! Where’s he gone? David! Have you buggered off?’

David turned and held a hand over the phone speaker to shout back. ‘I’m just saying goodnight, just give me a sec!’

‘Ooooh, Davy-boy’s got a girlfriend!’

‘No, he’s probably saying goodnight to _Iker_ and _Sergio_.’

‘Who?’

‘Hasn’t he told you? He’s got a husband and a lovechild back in Spain.’

‘What?! David!’

David grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut. ‘Sorry, Iker, I’ve got to go kill my friends. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay, Sergio?’

_‘Okay!’_

‘Okay. Goodnight, Sese.’

David’s already walking back to the door of the pub, ready to hang up, when Sergio yells, _‘Love you! Goodnight!’_

He stops.

 _‘Um,’_ Iker says. _‘It’s not- he’s just- that’s what he says when I tell him goodnight.’_

‘I know.’

_‘Right, of course.’_

‘Yeah.’

_‘So…’_

‘Right. Well, goodnight, then.’

_‘Goodnight.’_

They hang up.

David goes back inside and steals Gary’s drink.

>>> 

As happy as David is to be back in London and see his friends and family again for the first time in so long, the novelty of his return wears off pretty quickly, and soon enough his mum has stopped coddling him and started sending him out to M&S or off to visit relatives in Manchester just to stop him cluttering up the house. David’s bored, too. London and Manchester hold special places in his heart, but he’s gotten used to the clear, dry skies of colourful Madrid and the friendliness of the people who live there. London’s damp gloominess used to have something of a regal air to it, but it all just feels a bit stoic and cold-shouldered now.

The first time he goes to a coffee shop for a latte he forgets himself and smiles at the barista and makes small talk while he waits for his order. From the look on her face, he’s lucky she didn’t set the police on him for wandering around high.

He feels a little lonely, too. He misses hugging and cuddling Sergio every day. Iker’s tactile, too, and David’s gotten used to being pressed shoulder to shoulder when they watch tv and getting a quick squeeze around the waist whenever he does something helpful. He’s used to ruffling Iker’s hair when he passes and pushing his face into a smile whenever he looks annoyed. David’s family isn’t distant, or anything. They’re just British.

Iker rings every evening so Sergio can talk, but the boy’s voice gets a little less and less excited as the days pass, and by the end of the first week he starts and ends every call by asking how long it is ‘til David comes home.

 _‘Don’t feel bad,’_ Iker assures him. _‘It’s just the age. A week feels like a year to him. I think he might also be trying to make me feel so sorry for him that I let him open a present early.’_

David does feel bad, though. The night that Sergio actually sniffles before hanging up, he has to go make himself a cup of cocoa and help his mum put up decorations to remind himself that he’s really not a horrible, horrible person for leaving Madrid.

Sergio says ‘I love you’ every night before he hangs up, and David never says it back. He really likes Sergio, and he’s more or less gotten used the idea- he’s definitely not in denial anymore- that he’s some kind of weekend dad. It’s weird, but he likes it. He tried thinking once, because it seemed the right sort of thing to think, that if he ever has his own son, he’ll want him to be like Sergio.

It didn’t feel right. He doesn’t want a son like Sergio. He just wants Sergio.

Wanting the kid that’s always happy to see him isn’t the same as love, though. David invites himself over to Gary’s and cooks supper, just like they used to do, and runs it by him, because Gary might be a horrible gossip but he’s still his best friend in the UK.

‘Kids his age don’t even know what love is,’ Gary points out. ‘He’s just saying that because it’s part of his bedtime routine, and so are you. He doesn’t mean it. And he’s obviously not upset that you’re not saying it back, so it doesn’t matter to him that much.’

‘Yeah,’ David mutters. He pushes his pasta around the plate. It’s the answer he expected, so he doesn’t know why he feels a little bit disappointed to hear it.

‘Of course, if _Iker_ says he loves you-’

‘Oh, fuck off.’

‘I’m just saying. Maybe this is like one of those chick movies where the guy trains his kid to be all cute and endearing and say nice things about the dad so the hot nanny falls in love with him.’

‘Why the fuck have you ever watched a film like that?’

‘I’m just saying,’ Gary repeats. He looks serious. ‘Love is for parents, siblings, and spouses. Unless there’s something you need to tell me, you’re none of those.’

They watch a chick movie because Gary insists it’s not that bad. David spends the whole utterly awful film thinking about how he could be sat next to Iker watching match highlights instead.

The next day his mum makes him follow through on his promise for a hair trim, because she says he looks like he’s trying to be a Kurt Cobain impersonator. David doesn’t like this idea any more than she does, so he gets a couple inches taken off and some nice layers put in. Then he spends three hours listening to his sister cackle about the fact that he has _layers._ He texts Iker under the table through lunch, hoping for sympathy.

 

> Everybodys being mean about my hair
> 
> _Which part?_
> 
> Why do you say that like there are multiple reasonable things to laugh at
> 
> _I can’t answer, nando’s looking over my shoulder and if i insult your hair he’ll say i’m insulting his too and make me give him something_
> 
> Thats what he did to me!!!!!!
> 
> _He saw that it worked on you so now he keeps trying it. What’s wrong with your hair?_
> 
> I got it cut and theyre laughing at me
> 
> _Why did you cut it? It was fine as it was_
> 
> Awww you do like my hair! Its still a bit long and you cant make fun of it anymore now i know you like it
> 
> _I only make fun of how much time and products you use. It looks really good on you though_

David’s not sure how to answer that, so he doesn’t text back until after he’s put his dishes in the sink. By then, Iker’s sent a few more.

          _Not that you wouldn’t look good with short hair_

 

> _I’m not telling you to cut it or leave it long it’s fine either way_
> 
> _Tell me first though if you get a really short haircut because sergio will probably want to cut his_
> 
> _I have to go make dinner._

David decides to let it all lie. Instead of replying, he texts,

          Does sese still think im bringing him back a unicorn?

          _Maybe? I think i might tell him they’re invisible to people under 18_

David sets off a new round of laughter when he goes into the front room and asks his family where he can buy a giant and/or robot unicorn.

>>>

Of course, every downside to the UK becomes worth it to walk into the Theatre of Dreams again. David steps out onto the stairs leading down to his seat, the whole of the stadium looming before him, and for the first time since touching down in England, there isn’t the tiniest bit of him that wishes he were somewhere else. Old Trafford is _home_. He loves this place with every fibre of his being and he knows he always will.

It’s the same feeling he had when he held Sergio in his arms through that first night in his flat, and the realisation hits him so hard he stumbles on the stairs and his mates, pushing and shoving behind him, have to grab at his jacket before he goes over.

>>> 

‘Idiot,’ David scoffs. One of the Aston Villa players has just missed a perfectly decent cross by trying (and failing) for a bicycle kick instead of the header he was set up for. ‘Sergio’s bicycles are better than that.’

‘Who?’

‘Sergio. Uh, the kid of a mate back in Spain. Here, hang on.’ The whistle’s just blown for half time, so he doesn’t feel bad about digging out his phone. He flicks through his videos until he finds one he got at the park just a few weeks before, and holds it out so the lads around him can see. ‘Here, look. Watch this.’ They lean forward obligingly and David presses play. Iker took this video so David comes briefly into view as he kicks a ball up in the air. Then Sergio charges onto the screen, throws his hands out, and flips. It’s messy, but he connects. The ball flies out of range and Sergio falls flat to the ground on his back with an audible _oof_. The David onscreen runs over, cheering wildly, and grabs Sergio up off the ground to swing him around in circles. The video just captures Sergio’s giant, beaming grin before it ends.

David grins, too, and his mates make admiring noises.

‘He’s brilliant, right? And he doesn’t even turn six until March. He’s gonna be a superstar. Here, I’ve got loads more videos, I’ll show you. Oh, and I’ve got some awesome ones from Iker’s last match- he plays keeper in a sort of a pub league, he made these really amazing saves last time, you’ve got to see it, the guy just flies-’

Gary nudges his side, but David ignores him. He’s pretty sure he’s got a video somewhere of Sergio and Fernando tackling for the ball in a giant mud puddle, and it’s adorable.

>>> 

David has a few too many when they celebrate United’s win after the match, and he insists on being let off half a mile or so from his parents’ house so he can walk and sober up a bit. He’s not quite as steady as he’d thought in the car, though, so while he leans up against someone’s garden wall and waits for his knees to stiffen up, he calls Iker.

 _‘Hello?’_ Iker sounds tired. David realises that it’s actually quite late, and even later in Spain.

‘Sorry,’ he whispers. ‘Did I wake you up?’

 _‘David?’_ There’s a rustling noise. _‘I…yeah, it’s after four. What’s going on? Are you okay?’_

‘Yeah, I just…I was at the match. You know, the United match. That we won, because, you know, we’re United. Or, you probably don’t know, because you don’t like United because you’re Spanish and strange.’

 _‘David, are you drunk?’_ Iker sounds wary, and it makes David laugh.

‘ _So_ drunk,’ he agrees.

_‘Where are you?’_

‘Er…close to my parents’ house. I’m walking.’

_‘Should you maybe call a taxi?’_

‘No, no, no. It’s fine. I just had to. Um.’

_‘Yes, I was about to get to asking why you called. At four in the morning. When Sergio only finally settled down and stopped getting up to ask about Santa Claus a few hours ago.’_

‘Sergio.’

_‘Yes, Sergio. My son. Little long-haired boy who loves football. The one you like to kidnap.’_

‘I don’t kidnap him! I love him!’

There’s a pause. Iker’s breathing is audible through the phone, but he doesn’t say anything.

‘I love Sergio like I love Old Trafford,’ David tells him. ‘That’s what I figured out today. That’s why I had to call and tell you. And you can’t be mad that it’s Old Trafford instead of el Bernabéu. And I know he’s your kid and everything but is it okay if I love him too? For real, now. No more kidnapping and Sergio thinking he’s mine but it’s all just funny and weird because he isn’t. Because I knew he was sort of mine and I’d accidentally gotten him but it was strange and Gary told me to run away but I didn’t know I loved him yet, so that makes it different. So I know I’ve just supposed to have been taking care of him and it was all one-way and I kind of lied to the security lady because it sounded good but is it okay if I love him too?’

There’s another long pause. David decides he’s steady enough on his feet to set off down the road. _‘…Yeah,’_ Iker says finally. _‘Yeah, that’s okay.’_

‘That’s good. Can we add my last name on his?’

_‘Fuck no. What would it be, Sergio Casillas Ramos Beckham? That sounds terrible. He won’t be able to spell it until he’s twelve.’_

‘No, no, it would have to be Sergio Beckham Casillas Ramos. That’s how Spanish names work.’

_‘That would make me his mother.’_

‘You are his mother. Or you could drop the Ramos part since they aren’t around anyway and I am.’

_‘No, I think he’ll want that when he’s older. I met some of the other Ramos family after Sergio was born. An aunt and uncle. They couldn’t do much because the rest of the family didn’t want anyone involved, but they offered help if I needed it. We send holiday cards so they can get photos of him. They’re good people.’_

‘Oh. Maybe we can put Beckham as his middle name. Or Casillas Beckham Ramos?’

_‘It’s too long. What will happen when he adds Torres in there, too? It won’t fit on any forms. Are you almost home yet?’_

‘Er…yeah. Yeah, it’s right over there. No, it’s that one.’

_‘Have a glass of water and go to bed. We’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay?’_

‘Okay. Goodnight.’

David stumbles up the stairs and into bed. _Iker said it’s okay,_ he thinks. _Tomorrow I can tell Sergio ‘I love you, goodnight’ too._ His last thought before he falls asleep is that he should tell his mum and dad they have a grandson.

>>> 

He doesn’t tell them anything, because what made so much sense at three in the morning isn’t nearly so clear-cut when he wakes up at ten.

He loves Sergio, yes. Definitely. He’s not going to dance around that or feel awkward anymore, no matter what Gary says, because he knows what he felt the night before and that night in his flat and David’s not the type to give up something he wants just because other people might not like it.

And Iker seemed okay with it. So David has a kid, for real. He loves Sergio and Sergio loves him. He’s going to move in and he and Iker are going to bring up their kid together.

He can’t say _that_ to his family, though. There’s no way they’d believe he and Iker are just really good mates. Who live together and co-parent and kiss goodbye at the airport.

No, he can’t say that.

The next day a few grandparents and aunts and cousins come over, and somehow one of the cousins has heard about Sergio’s bicycle kick, so he shows them the videos, too. Then they want to see all his photos of beautiful Madrid, so he puts them up on his mum and dad’s computer to show off, but somehow they almost all end up being of Iker, Sergio, and Fernando. He has to say something.

He fumbles.

>>> 

_‘Hello?’_

‘My family thinks we’re dating.’

_‘Hm. I did sort of think you were trying to ask me out, when we first met. You did arrange to invite yourself over for dinner.’_

‘You thought…so, what, I stalked you until I found out where Sergio’s doctor is, broke into his office to find something useful, found the note about being allergic to strawberries, deliberately pushed him into the path of a car so he’d get scared and willing to eat ice cream, bought him ice cream that would make him sick, then brought him back to you, knowing you’d be worried and therefore vulnerable and less likely to say no when I offered to bring you supper?’

_‘I did say sort of.’_

‘I’m more concerned that you thought that even a little bit and still let me into your house with your son.’

_‘You were a grown man wearing an Alice band. You couldn’t have been that bad.’_

‘It could have been a disguise.’

_‘Nobody would be that desperate.’_

‘Hey!!’

_‘It’s okay. It’s grown on me now.’_

‘It better have. Sergio and Fernando like theirs.’

_‘I know. My mom’s not so sure about you. Sergio wanted to wear his pink shirt and a headband today and Sergio told her you bought them both for him. She jumped to a lot of conclusions. I think she thinks you might be a drag queen or something.’_

‘What? And you haven’t corrected her? You’ve got photos of me with Sergio on your phone, you could’ve showed her those!’

_‘My phone was all the way upstairs at the time, though.’_

‘Thanks a lot!’

_‘It’s okay. Sergio already told them you’re living with us now. I think they think we’re dating, too, and they’re just too polite to ask why I’ve fallen for an English drag queen. You’re invited to the family party they always do for Sese’s birthday, though. It’s on the following Sunday, whatever that day is. I don’t remember.’_

‘Oh, that’s cool. Yeah, tell them thanks.’

_‘Okay.’_

‘Hey, why does everyone think we’re dating?’

_‘Well, we don’t- oh, hang on. Yeah. No, come back here, I want that zipped up if you’re walking there. Here, do you want to say hi to David?’_

_‘HI DAVID!!!’_

‘Ow. Hi, Sese. Where are you going?’

_‘WE’RE GOING TO SEE ALEJANDRO TALAVANTE! BYE, DAVID!’_

_‘Sorry, he’s been really excited since last night. Talavante is- hey, Sergio, wait. Sese. You be good and hold on to abuelo’s hand the whole time, okay? No wandering off. David isn’t here to come find you.’_

_‘Okay.’_

_‘Promise?’_

_‘I promise.’_

_‘Okay. I love you. Go have fun.’_

‘So, who’s Alejandro Talavante?’

_‘A bullfighter. He’s pretty famous. He’s out here at a Christmas market doing promotional stuff.’_

‘Bullfighter, huh? I thought we talked about that.’

 _‘And we’re going to have to talk about it again, because Sergio is still obsessed. He definitely wants to be a bullfighter_ and _a footballer now.’_

‘I am _not_ having- er…’

_‘You were about to say ‘any son of mine,’ weren’t you?’_

‘Maybe?’

>>> 

‘Hello?’

_‘David! We’re going out tonight.’_

‘I don’t know, Gary, I’ve been out almost every night since I got here. I think my liver needs a night off.’

 _‘No, I mean, just dinner tonight. Double date. You, me, my girl, and_ your _girl.’_

‘What?’

_‘Come on, I told you! Friend of a friend I think is perfect for you. Unless you really are married to Iker, I mean.’_

‘I am _not_ married to Iker. Or dating him, or shagging him, or anything else.’

_‘If you need me to hook you up with a bloke instead of a girl, you have to tell me these things.’_

‘I don’t need you to hook me up with anyone! Who is she?’

_‘She came to the match with us the other day but I don’t think you noticed her. You were too busy showing off pictures of your lovechild.’_

‘Sergio is _not_ my-’

_‘I’ll come get you about seven, okay?’_

‘…Fine. What’s her name?’

_‘Victoria.’_

_'_ She knows I'm not seriously interested, right?'

_'I told her you have a secret family back in Spain, yes.'_

'You didn't.'

_'Of course I did.  I had to find some way to explain the fact that you spent the whole second half of the match showing off pictures of some hot young guy and his kid.'_

'So why does she want to go out with me, then?'

 _'Mate, I don't know why_ anyone _would want to go out with you.'_

'You know, I think you and Iker would actually get along really well.'


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. We all had a little panicky moment there, didn’t we? I’m really sorry for anyone who was upset, but I’m not at all familiar enough with the fandom to know you’d take it that way. The whole ‘completely not noticing Vic b/c he was busy showing off family photos’ combined with how this chapter originally went was just supposed to be really silly. I promise that this will NOT be an angsty story and this WILL have a very happy Becks-Casillas family ending. Neither Becks or Iker will ever be paired with anyone else.   
> This chapter is pointless fluff to make up for yesterday. Normal service resumes afterwards :)   
> p.s. I’m feeling kind of paranoid now, so: this chapter was partly written yesterday, before I posted the other one. I swear I’m not making fun of what anyone was worried about, okay?

Victoria’s pretty enough. David thinks he recognises her dress from a magazine. She’s a model, apparently- a real one, not the way every twenty-something girl now puts photos of themselves in their knickers on Instagram and says they’re a model. Victoria also helps design clothing for some boutique label David’s never heard of. She seems smart, and interested in football, and carries on a conversation about Man United’s chances in the next match against Liverpool.

She never smiles, though. She acts like she’s determined to be as chilly and serious as possible. Her posture and poise are perfect. David sort of feels like he’s sitting next to a robot.

When the girls get up to go to the toilet together, David kicks Gary under the table.

‘Ow! What was that for?’

‘How exactly is _she_ supposed to be perfect for _me_?’ David hisses. ‘She’s terrifying!’

‘What are you talking about?’ Gary looks honestly confused. ‘She’s just your type, mate. Stunning, same age as you, into football, into fashion. High flying career. She’s going to be properly famous. She’s just the same sort you always used to try and pick up, only better and vouched for by a friend. What’s the problem?’

David slumps in his chair and stares at his plate. It’s true. A year or so ago, he would’ve been all over her, he thinks. She’d’ve been perfect. A year or so ago, he’d’ve been sitting here already thinking about the sleek stainless steel flat where they could live together in some fashionable part of London with their gym equipment and absolute order and posters of her magazine covers on the walls. He’d’ve been swooning.

Now all he can think about is how poorly she’d fit in Iker’s little red house with the blue and yellow walls and the mixed-up pile of shoes by the front door. Iker and _his_ house, now. It’s not shiny and modern, and he knows there will be a never-ending battle between David wanting everything put away where it belongs and Sergio wanting all of his toys out wherever he thinks he might use them later. He’ll probably end up sharing a bed with Iker every time Sergio has a nightmare because Sergio feels safest tucked in between them, completely hidden away, when he gets scared.

This Victoria would probably take one look at the back yard, with the hose in one corner waiting to spray down muddy little boys and the mini goal net at each end and the little vegetable patch they keep because Iker wants Sergio to know about growing food, and she’d probably offer suggestions about patios and zinc-fitted outdoor grills.

She wouldn’t fit at their football pitch at the park, either, and she doesn’t follow la Liga, and she hasn’t talked about children at all but he doesn’t think Sergio would take very well to someone who never smiles back at him. Fernando would probably be angelic for about two minutes. She’d probably even actually like Fernando for two minutes. Then he’d probably decide that she’s mean to Sergio and arrange for them both to fling mud at her as she left the house.

He thinks Iker would get awkward and quiet and find a hundred excuses to leave the room if she came round, because Iker can be a little shy with people until he gets to know them (then he turns into the unflappable commander in chief with the dickish sense of humour they know and love) and he doesn’t see Iker actually wanting to get to know a woman who would stand in his lounge in a thousand-quid dress and thousand-quid heels and talk about small business stock prices. He can’t picture them hugging, and Iker likes to hug.

 _That matters,_ David thinks. His life is four people now, and three of them would never like her, so she doesn’t have a chance.

Gary’s watching him closely.

‘I think my tastes have changed,’ David admits.

‘To what?’ Gary asks, and he sounds suspicious.

David shrugs. ‘To someone who eats more than salad at every meal? I mean, look at her. She might be able to talk football, but there’s no way she could play it. I bet those heels never come off.’

‘You don’t get a girlfriend to play football with, mate. That’s what your lads are for.’

David just shrugs again. He picks at his fish, crusted and baked with peppers and fruit, and wonders if the chef would give him the recipe. It tastes good. Sergio should eat more fish. He remembers reading online once that fish is good for children’s brains.

Maybe he could even tell the chef it’s for his son. He sort of wants to say it out loud. Only to a stranger, someone who doesn’t know how strange and vague the situation really is. David just wants to walk up to someone and tell them about Sergio and say, ‘ _he’s mine.’_

‘One date,’ Gary says. There’s a calculating look in his eyes that David doesn’t like. It reminds him of Fernando. ‘One proper date, just to see what you think. You never know, maybe you’ve just gotten used to dating in Spain and it’ll take more than a couple hours to remember what you like about English girls. Victoria’s gorgeous. Don’t let her go just because you’re not feeling it tonight.’

David sighs. Gary won’t give up easily and he doesn’t want to argue. Or admit that he hasn’t exactly had much experience dating Spanish girls, either. ‘Alright. One date. But if it goes badly, you’re not hooking me up with anyone else while I’m here. Deal?’

‘Deal.’

The girls come back, and David asks Victoria if she’s busy over the weekend after Christmas. She isn’t, and suggests they go shopping. They can hit a few of the sales. David’s polite smile turns genuine at that. He hasn’t had a chance to buy Sergio and Iker’s English presents yet, so this will be perfect. Even if the date’s a complete wash he can still get his errands done.

He’ll probably need to pay for extra luggage to bring back everything he’d hoping to find for Sergio. Iker’s not so easy, but he does like calling David a chav, so he’s thinking a knockoff Burberry cap might have to be the first thing on the list.

‘Sure,’ he says, grinning easily now that he thinks about what he might want to get. Iker thinks David’s only bringing back presents for Sergio, so whatever he does end up getting for him is going to have to be spectacular. ‘I’ll meet you at, say, ten-thirty?’

Victoria agrees. With a very composed expression.

Before they leave the restaurant, David ducks back into the kitchen and asks for the recipe for his baked fish.

‘Sorry, we don’t give out recipes,’ the head chef says. He’s a massive bloke with a strong Scottish accent and at least twice David’s age. ‘Company policy. Stops Gordon Ramsey swanning in and nicking everything.’

The sous chefs all laugh and something goes up in flames on the grill.

‘Please?’ David asks. He puts his hands in his pockets and throws out a lopsided smile because he knows it makes him look boyish and charming. ‘I’m trying to get my lad to eat more fish. He doesn’t not like it, or anything, but he’s not too excited about different foods except for a few favourites. I think he’d really like this one. It’d be a good fall-back if he starts getting pickier like some of the other kids at school.’

‘Your boy, eh?’ The chef wipes a towel across his sweaty face and moves out from behind the counters to meet David properly. ‘How old?’

‘Six in March,’ David tells him. He grins as he pulls out his phone, because he never gets tired of showing Sese off. ‘Here. His name’s Sergio.’ He brings up a photo Iker sent him of Sergio sitting on the floor of his room, beaming at the camera and looking utterly angelic in the middle of a massive mess of Legos and action figures.

The chef laughs. ‘He’ll be keeping you busy as he gets older, won’t he? I remember that age. God help me, my two were picky eaters. You’re a lucky man if your lad eats well. Here.’ He rips a piece of paper from a clipboard hanging on the wall and scribbles across the back of it for a minute. He hands it to David and taps him on the chest. ‘You keep that secret,’ he says, raising his eyebrows. ‘I don’t mind giving it to you to feed that lovely boy of yours, but if you sell it on to Ramsey I’ll be coming after you, you hear me?’

David grins. They shake hands gruffly and he heads back out to the street where the others are waiting, folding up the recipe and slipping it in his pocket.

 _My lad_ , he’d said. _Your boy._ It felt good.

>>> 

‘ _-AND THEN WE WENT TO THE MARKET AND I PET A SHEEP AND IT WAS FUNNY AND I WANT ONE!’_

‘I don’t think you can have a pet sheep, Sese.’

_‘WHY NOT?’_

‘Because sheep like to live with a lot of other sheep and you don’t have enough room. It would get bored and lonely if it were stuck in your back yard by itself all the time.’

_‘BUT-_

‘Hey, Sese, remember how I said I can hear you just fine even if you don’t shout?’

_‘Oops. Sorry.’_

‘That’s better. Thanks, love. When I get back we can go visit a farm or something and you can pet all the sheep there, okay?

_‘Okay.’_

David and his family don’t really celebrate on Christmas Day. One or two of his grandparents are Jewish, but for the most part they’re just nondenominational, so they end up having their holidays whenever everyone is free to get together. David spends most of the day running malware scans and software updates on his mum and dad’s computer. He’s pretty sure it hasn’t been done since he left. It’s a wonder they can get online at all.

It’s early in the afternoon and as he knew from the start he’d be stuck there sitting for a couple of hours while everything loaded, he’d set up his laptop on the desk next to the computer monitor and called Iker to ask if he could skype with Sergio for a bit.

Iker’s laptop is set on a cabinet or side table so the camera shows the whole lounge at Iker’s parents’ house and Sergio can run back and forth around the room, happily showing off all the presents he got for Christmas that morning and telling David all about what he’s been up to. Iker’s parents are out at a Christmas Day mass, but Iker’s not exactly devout, and Sergio doesn’t have the attention span. Iker’s happy to let David virtual-babysit while he prep-cooks for the massive family dinner they have planned for that night.

David’s mum wanders in and out behind him. Sergio doesn’t seem to notice her, and she can’t understand any of his babbled Spanish, but David knows she’s completely taken in by how adorable he is when she comes up to watch over his shoulder as Sergio pedals around a coffee table on the miniature BMX bike David had sent for him, making his own sound effects like he’s in a motocross race.

 _Everyone_ is taken in by how adorable Sergio is. David actually had to kiss the screen earlier because it was so sweet how excited Sergio got over his new picture book about a unicorn.

A system alert comes up on the desktop. David turns away from his laptop to see what’s wrong.

‘So, that’s your young man, then?’ his mum asks, leaning in to his laptop.

David grins down at the keyboard as he types in the login information. ‘Yeah, that’s my young man.’

‘Well, he’s certainly good-looking enough. Oh, that’s a _very_ nice bum. If I were twenty years younger…’

David frowns. He looks up at the screen.

Iker’s standing there in the camera frame, frozen in the middle of trying to wrestle a blue jumper over Sergio’s head. He looks mortified.

‘Mum,’ David starts, and then stops, because he doesn’t know whether to bury his face in his hands or burst out laughing. ‘Mum, Iker speaks English.’

Iker waves a little. He’s very, very red. ‘Hello, Mrs Beckham,’ he says politely. ‘Happy Christmas.’

David’s mum is very, very red as well. She waves and says ‘hello’ back.

Sergio looks back and forth between them, clearly confused, then takes off at a run to escape the jumper Iker’s still holding.

There’s really only one thing David can do. He cracks up and laughs until he falls off his chair.

>>> 

‘I’ve got a date tomorrow,’ David says. He’s not sure why he feels like he needs to tell Iker. Shopping list ideas, maybe. Or maybe he’ll feel better about how awkward it’s going to be if Iker laughs it off with him.

_‘Really? Won’t your family think you’re cheating on me?’_

‘I haven’t told them. Gary set it up. I’m not sure why though because he seems half convinced we’re actually married. Is that even legal in Spain?’

_‘Since July 2005. Third country in the world.’_

‘Oh. Well, then I guess I’m cheating on you.’

 _‘This is- I’m really heartbroken, David,’_ Iker says. His voice is completely disinterested and David can hear him washing dishes in the background. _‘Just remember she’ll never be as good as me at putting up with your whining when you miss a shot from inside the penalty box.’_

‘I know.’

_‘And she’ll never take care of your laundry without complaining the way I do when you forget to empty out your kit bag and your sweaty socks make the whole car stink so bad even Sergio won’t go near it.’_

‘You’re right. Why am I even- hang on, if I’m cheating on you, I should have a wedding ring to take off when I go see her,’ David says, trying to hold back his laughter and sound outraged instead. ‘Where’s my ring?’

_‘We couldn’t do rings. You’d either want matching tattoos of rings or one of those horrible enormous celebrity-style rings where there’s so much gold it weighs down your hand and the diamond is bigger than your finger. I’d have to say no to both.’_

David chews his thumbnail to hide his grin. Iker knows him too well, now. ‘I really wish I could get offended by that, but...’

_‘It’s exactly what you were thinking, right? We could always get matching football boots with each other’s names on them instead.’_

‘Oh, like Schweinsteiger and his girlfriend?’

_‘Yeah.’_

‘Yeah, okay. I’m up for that. I’d still probably have to get your face tattooed on me somewhere though.’

_‘If it’s anywhere visible I will never be seen in public with you again. Oh, hey, nene. Come here. Ready to say goodnight?’_

_‘No.’_

_‘Why not?’_

_‘I don’t want to go to bed.’_

_‘Well, if you’re not going to bed, then I guess you don’t need to talk to David, do you? Goodbye, David, we’ll call you tomorrow.’_

_‘No!’_

_‘No?’_

_‘I wanna talk to him.’_

_‘But David only called to say goodnight. Does that mean you_ will _go to bed?’_

_‘…Okay.’_

_‘Then you’d better say goodnight to David before you go. Here.’_

David’s grinning throughout their whole side conversation. He can just see Iker, standing in the kitchen with his arms crossed and a mild expression on his face, and Sergio a miniature mirror image facing off against him except with an exaggerated pout. He leans back against the headboard of his bed and wishes he were there. He’d grab Sergio up off the floor and tickle his sides until the pout went away.

Then he hears a massive intake of breath, and winces pre-emptively. Iker gets there first.

_‘Indoor voice, cariño, remember?’_

The air gets let out in a whoosh. David relaxes in relief. _‘Hello?’_

‘Hey, Sese.’

_‘I have to go to bed.’_

‘I know, I heard.’

_‘I don’t want to.’_

‘Don’t you? I’d’ve thought you’d want to go to bed really early tonight. Isn’t Fernando coming over tomorrow?’

_‘Yes?’_

‘And he’s staying for four whole days! Don’t you want to get your rest now? If you don’t sleep really well tonight you’ll be so tired while Fernando is there that you’ll have to take naps instead of playing with him. Then Fernando will be left all by himself while you’re sleeping and he’ll get lonely.’

Sergio gasps and David has to hold the phone away so he can laugh without Sergio hearing. There’s a soft thud and some rustling, then Iker’s voice.

_‘Sese, wait! Hey, come back here. You can go to bed in a second, you haven’t even brushed your teeth yet. I thought you wanted to say goodnight first!’_

Sergio’s voice comes from a distance. Iker must’ve caught him around the middle as he tried to run off to bed. _‘Goodnight! Love you!’_

‘Love you too, Sese,’ David says, and he just knows his grin is massive and silly but he can’t help it. Now that he’s started saying the words, attaching them to this loud, warm, sunbeam of a boy, he doesn’t think they’ll ever get old.

>>> 

David goes to a park that night with a few mates to kick a ball around. Before they leave he makes one of the lads take a video to send to Iker of him aiming a shot from the middle of the penalty box. He knocks it right off the goal post, and blows a kiss to the camera, laughing.

>>> 

David wakes up the next morning to his mobile ringing. He opens his eyes just long enough to see Iker’s name on the screen before answering.

‘Morning.’

‘ _I can’t get Sergio out of bed.’_

That has him sitting up. ‘Why not? Is he okay?’

‘Y _ou made him think that unless he sleeps right up to the second Fernando gets here, Fernando will get bored of him and they’ll break up.’_

‘That’s what he said?’

_‘He’s five, he doesn’t know what breaking up is. That was the idea, though.’_

‘Oops. Maybe I should buy some parenting books today while we’re shopping.’

 _‘If I weren’t so jealous I’d feel sorry for this girl,’_ Iker says, and his voice is bright and teasing.

‘I’m being fought over by two gorgeous people!’ David crows, sinking back down into his pillows. ‘Now England just has to win the next World Cup and my life is complete.’

Iker doesn’t respond for a long moment. _‘Yeah,’_ he says finally, and he sounds a little strangled. ‘ _I mean, keep hoping for England. I’d better go get Sergio.’_ And he hangs up.

A text comes through while David’s eating breakfast. His parents are very much the bacon-and-eggs type, and David loves that, but he’s gotten used to eating breakfast with Sergio at least a few mornings every week and Iker usually insists Sergio eat healthy muesli cereal or yoghurt, so David’s gotten used to that, too. His mum gives him an odd look when he sits down with a bowl of unsweetened yoghurt and a box of dried cherry granola. He ignores her and checks his phone.

          _Sese wants to talk to you sometime after nando gets here so they can tell you what nando got for christmas is that ok? Don’t want to interrupt your date_

          Im already buying parenting books during the date i think she wont be surprised

          _You’re not very good at this cheating thing_

Guess im stuck with you guys :P

          _And here i thought i was finally free of having your skin creams take up all the bathroom counter space_

>:(

David’s mum sets a cup of tea down in front of him and swats his arm. ‘No phones at the table,’ she scolds. ‘You can check the sports news or play your games after you’ve finished eating.’

‘I’m just talking to Iker,’ he protests.

She smiles and pats his shoulder. ‘Oh. Well, that’s alright, then.’ She sits down and takes a sip of her own tea. ‘It’s so lovely to see you finally settled down. You’ll have to bring them here for a long stay over the summer so they can get to know everyone.’

David chokes on his yoghurt. ‘Mum, I keep telling you, it’s not like that! Iker and I are just mates!’

She waves a hand. ‘Don’t be silly, darling. Nobody minds a bit. We all saw how happy you looked in those photos. That’s what matters.’

David drops his head to the table.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short bit of useless fluff for you to finish out the weekend.

David is twenty minutes late to meet Victoria because- and he’ll never admit it to anyone- he doesn’t know what to wear.

It _is_ tricky, though. He can’t be rude and not make an effort, but he doesn’t want to make _too_ much of an effort, either. Just enough effort to be civil, but not as much as a person would make if they were actually interested in impressing the girl.

That’s a difficult balance.

Finally, after trying on and throwing out nearly everything he brought, he calls Iker.

‘I can’t believe I’m this desperate,’ he says.

_‘I can’t either. You always criticise what I wear, why are you asking me?’_

‘Because you’ve spent more time looking at me in the last six months than anyone else I know?’

_‘Hm. Do you have those black jeans? The ones with the- the long sort of loose-skinny ones, that sort of bunch up over your shoes.’_

‘That’s the worst description of a pair of jeans ever, but somehow I know which ones you mean. Yeah, I’ve got them.’

_‘Wear those.’_

‘Yeah?’

_‘Yeah, they look good, you know, they fit really nicely around- um. Around…your ankles.’_

David stops rummaging through his bags. ‘My…ankles.’

 _‘…Yeah.’_ Iker coughs. _‘You know. Because…they…you know, they look good, they look nice, but they’re too long and they bunch up around the ankles so they don’t look_ too _nice. They’re nice but they’re still casual. And then you can wear your black jumper, so it’s all black, so it doesn’t look like you thought about picking out a special flattering colour. Not like wearing green to make your eyes look greener or something. It’s all just nice but generic.’_

‘That’s…that’s perfect, mate. I’m amazed. I guess I’ve been rubbing off on you, huh?’

Iker coughs again.

>>> 

Victoria’s waiting in front of the café where they arranged to meet when David jogs up. She’s wearing another high-fashion dress and enormous sunglasses, even though it’s overcast. David’s rumpled and a bit sweaty from having to run from where he finally gave up on the traffic and got out of the cab early.

He assumes she’s unimpressed, but it’s impossible to tell.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ David says. He reaches out to shake her hand, but she’s holding a very tall paper coffee cup in one hand and a massive purse in the other, so he has to turn the movement into an awkward sweep of his arm towards the street. He’d actually like a coffee himself, but she’s already got hers and it seems rude to make her wait any longer. ‘Shall we? Where did you want to go first?’

Victoria shrugs elegantly. ‘You mentioned having something of a shopping list.’

‘Oh, yeah. I need a unicorn.’

Even Victoria blinks at that.

‘It’s for my- er, my best mate’s son, back in Madrid,’ David explains. ‘He has this thing about England and unicorns- you know what, it’s a long story. But, yeah, I need to buy him a unicorn. I thought we could go to Hamleys and look there. They’re the biggest toy store in London, right? They’ve got to have something.’

‘I was thinking more along the lines of Harrods,’ Victoria says delicately.

David brightens. ‘Oh, yeah, they’ve got a big toy department, haven’t they? That’s a good idea. I’d forgotten about them.’

Clearly, he’s on the wrong track, though, because Victoria somehow looks like she’d be frowning if she ever actually moved her forehead. ‘Harrods is really close to Jenny Packham,’ she says pointedly.

Oh. ‘Oh,’ David says. ‘Well, yeah, so- of course you don’t want to come toy shopping, so maybe I’ll go do that and you can stop in at Jenny Packham’s and we can meet up at Harrods when we’re done? I only need the one thing from their toy department if I can’t find it at Hamleys and then I’ll come find you and we can go…wherever you’re going.’

Victoria sighs a little. ‘Alright. It’s supposed to start raining soon. You’d better get a cab.’

‘Oh, yeah, of course. I’ll just see you into yours first.’

David opens and closes the door for her like a gentleman. As soon as she’s gone, he sprints into the coffee shop for his own coffee. He texts Iker while he’s waiting in line.

          Not making a good first impression

          _Didn’t with me either, maybe that’s your tactic_

Thank you darling. I just told her i want to spend our date buying a unicorn

          _I’m saving that text for blackmail forever_

_Shit i have to go the boys are trying to get on the roof to find reindeer footprints_

David snorts with laughter and the woman in front of him jumps, startled.

>>> 

When David walks into Hamleys he’s imagining a giant stuffed unicorn, something taller than Sergio. Maybe on wheels so he can ride it around the house. The toy store hasn’t got anything like that, but he does find a cool purple unicorn that’s big enough to cuddle and has sides that can snap together to make a pillow. He also finds a puzzle of Old Trafford that he buys just to piss off Iker, and sets off, happy with a good start.

The Harrods children’s department has a dress with a unicorn on it. Victoria finds him there, looking at it.

‘It’s been longer than I expected, I thought you might have gotten lost,’ she says. Her arms are loaded down with paper bags. She eyes the dress. ‘I thought you said you were shopping for a boy?’

‘I am,’ David says. He frowns. He’s not entirely sure where Sergio stands in regards to girls’ clothing. Maybe he just really likes pink. David puts the dress back. ‘He likes all kinds of things, though.’

Victoria looks slightly sceptical, which probably means she’s completely confused. David sets his Hamleys bag down and pulls out his phone. He finds a photo of Sergio in a yellow jumper he picked out during a second trip to the mall. It’s got big pink and blue and purple flowers embroidered on it and Sergio loves it.

‘See?’ He shows her the picture. ‘He picked that out for himself. And then he also picked out all of these.’ He swipes to the next photo, one of Sergio and Fernando holding hands and eating ice cream cones as they watch Iker’s football match at the park. Sergio’s wearing jeans and a red hoodie with a dinosaur on the front.

Victoria takes his phone and swipes through more photos. ‘This is the son of a friend of yours?’

‘Yeah.’

She keeps swiping through, sometimes going backwards to look again, sometimes staring at a photo for a long moment. David starts to feel a little awkward. He wonders what exactly Gary told her. At least he and Sergio don’t actually look anything alike. She can’t honestly believe he’s David’s illegitimate child for real, can she?

‘He’s very photogenic,’ Victoria says, finally looking up. ‘Have his parents ever considered child modelling? I’d love to get him in our catalogue. I think I know a number of other brands who would be extremely interested to use him. He’s got a great look with the tan skin and all that hair. I think he’d do really well.’

David gapes at her. Sergio’s adorable, sure, but _modelling_? He’s not sure he likes the idea of his kid being stuck in front of a camera for thousands of strangers to see. And there’s no way in hell Iker would ever agree to it. ‘Um. I don’t think that’s something we’d want Sergio to go in for. No offense, I mean. It’s just…it’d be weird. I don’t think we’d want him to do that.’

Victoria stares at him. One eyebrow goes very high. Then she sighs, and looks a little resigned. David hopes that means she won’t try to steal his pictures for an ad campaign. ‘It never hurts to ask.' She scans the racks around them and doesn't seem satisfied. 'You want to find him some more gifts? We can do much better than this,' she says, and turns to stalk towards the exit. 'I think we should try La Coqueta. It’s more conservative than anything he’s wearing in those pictures, but he’d suit their Spring and Summer range _very_ well. Maybe just a few things for special occasions. They tend to use mostly pale pastels, they’d be a gorgeous contrast with his skin.’

>>> 

David’s exhausted by the time he gets back to his mum and dad’s house. Victoria dragged him to what felt like every children’s clothing store in London.

She seemed to be having a great time. David could hardly see over the pile of shopping bags in his arms.

Then, when she was scrolling through the photos on his phone to make sure she had the colour of Sergio’s eyes exactly right, she’d come across a photo of him with Iker- one where Iker is standing in the kitchen, wearing old jeans and a white hoodie, holding a bowl of peeled orange segments over his head with a grin while Sergio tries to climb up his legs to get them.

‘He’s got a great figure,’ she’d said, frowning. ‘You’re getting things for him as well, right?’

David couldn’t answer, because his face was covered in a tiny cardigan that fell out of the top of one of the bags.

Victoria took his silence as a ‘yes’ and swept off to the men’s accessories department to find Iker the perfect slender tie to highlight his strong shoulders.

When David staggers into the house and drops his bags in a pile that takes up all the floor space in his room, he’s ready for a nap. So, of course, his mobile rings.

‘Hello?’

_‘Hey, I expected you to ring me hours ago to tell me how the date went!’_

‘Hey, Gary. I’ve only just got back. Literally just this second.’

_‘Oooh, out all day, then? That’s a good sign.’_

‘No, it wasn’t like that. We didn’t really do much. I got a ton of late Christmas presents for Iker and Sergio while we were out, though.’

There’s a pause. _‘You ditched your potential girlfriend to go buy presents for your supposedly not-boyfriend. That’s got to be the worst date in the history of the world. You absolute muppet, David.’_

‘It wasn’t like that! It was her idea!’

_‘Really. She told you, ‘let’s go shopping for my love rival and his child. That’s exactly what I’d like to do for a date.’ Yeah, that sounds completely likely.’_

‘No, she just said she wanted to go shopping. And he’s not a love rival.’

_‘Right. Shopping. Which means you’re supposed to follow her around a department store, watching her try on dresses and saying how gorgeous each one of them looks and carrying her bags.’_

‘I know, but we met up near Hamleys so I told her I needed to stop in there first to get something important for Sergio.’

There’s a distant sound of repeated thuds from Gary’s end. David thinks he’s probably banging his head against something.

‘It’s not like I made her come with me,’ he says defensively. ‘We decided to split back up for a bit, and then we agreed to meet up at Harrods, only I took too long in the toy department there so she came and found me, and then she saw some pictures of Sergio and decided to spend the rest of the date buying clothes for him. Seriously, I swear that’s how it went. She even wants some of the things wrapped up with her name on them as presents from her to him.’

_‘Really.’_

‘Really. I think it’s just because Sergio’s that adorable. No-one can stand it. Everyone gets this irrepressible urge to buy him presents when they see him smile. Oh, and she bought Iker a waistcoat because she said it’d make his hips look good or something. And she made me get one almost the same. I guess at least we can both look properly dressed up next time Sergio kicks someone on the playground and we have to go in for a parent conference.’

There’s more thuds over the phone, and some indistinct shouting. David’s not quite sure what he’s done to trigger that but he assumes Gary’s reaction is probably insulting, and hangs up.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. So much homework you wouldn’t believe it if you saw the schedule I had blocked out for this week. There are no unhighlighted squares AT ALL on some of the days and it’s a 24-hour schedule! Next three weeks aren’t much better, so expect a major update slow-down :( But after that I’m freeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

David sees more of Victoria in the week before he leaves, but Gary’s stopped trying to push them together and even when she invites David for a coffee, just the two of them, it doesn’t feel like a date.

Especially when the first thing she does after they get a table is haul out the rough draft of her company’s next catalogue and show him how well Sergio would fit in.

‘Look,’ David says, pushing away paperclipped piles of photos. ‘Do you want me to give you Iker’s number? He’s better at telling people ‘no’ than I am. That’s why I always run to him holding my phone out if it’s a telemarketer.’

Victoria immediately hands over her mobile with a very faint, pleased smile, and David wonders if she hadn’t been angling at contact information all along.

She offers to put in their orders (espresso and a single macaroon for her, latte and blueberry scone for him) while he types in Iker’s name and number. David pulls out his own phone when she joins the queue and quickly texts Iker under the table.

          I think my date from last week is interested in you. She wants your #

          _Tell her i don’t speak english!_

She was looking at my pics of you i think shes really taken

          _If you try to set me up with someone i’ll have to tell sergio you don’t love us anymore. Imagine his face!!!_

>>> 

_‘What the hell, David!’_

‘What?’ David’s at the supermarket and he nearly drops his basket in surprise at the anger in Iker’s voice. ‘What’s happened?’

_‘That Victoria woman rang me to talk about making Sergio model for her clothing store!’_

‘Ugh. Yeah, I thought she might.’

_‘She said she discussed it with you!’_

‘What? No, no, no. I mean, we talked about it, sort of, yeah, but I kept saying no!’

_‘She left that part out.’_

‘Well, maybe I didn’t sound definite enough. I’ll talk to her.’

_‘No, you won’t. I put her straight.’_

‘She’s sending presents for Sergio. I’m thinking now they might be bribes.’

_‘Am I going to have to screen all of your friends before you bring them to the house?’_

‘Actually,’ David says, because he’s been wondering when to bring this up, and now seems as good a time as any. ‘Maybe you could meet them here this summer. Mum is hoping you and Sergio could come to stay. She really wants to meet both of you. She and most of the family, really. And some of my mates.’

‘ _Oh.’_ Iker sounds surprised. _‘Um…yeah, maybe. If you want. I mean, Sergio’s never been so far from home before, so I’m not sure how he’d do with a trip like that, but he’d probably be fine. As long as he doesn’t get frustrated with not being able to understand anybody.’_

David shrugs and tucks the phone between his ear and his shoulder so he can inspect two bags of apples side by side. ‘It probably won’t be for at least six months from now, right? That’s time to teach him a good bit of English if we actually focus on it. And my mum would probably do one of those learn-a-language podcast things if I set it up for her, so she’d know a bit of Spanish to help out.’

_‘I think Xabi said he and his husband are going to visit family in Liverpool in July. If we go around the same time we’d have a couple extra translators, at least for a few days.’_

David frowns. ‘What, Xabi from school? Unicorn Xabi?’

_‘Yeah.’_

‘Huh. Yeah, that could be good. Hey, do you think this chorizo is okay if it says ‘MADE IN ENGLAND’ on it?’

_‘No way. Stick with fish and chips until you get back.’_

‘Yeah, you’re probably right. So where’s Sergio?’

_‘In his room with Fernando. They made a fort and I’m not allowed in.’_

‘Aw, that’s not nice.’

_‘I mean, I have to go in every ten minutes to help build new wings to the fort and bring them snacks and be in whatever game they’re playing, but besides that I’m not allowed.’_

‘Awww.’

There’s some shouting in the background. _‘Oh, hang on, I have to go. It’s been six minutes and they need more pretzels. Talk to you later.’_

‘No, wait,’ David says quickly. ‘Could you give them the phone?’

_‘Why?’_

‘I just miss talking to them, that’s all.’ He does. It feels weird to miss talking with two people who barely have the attention span to actually hold a conversation, but he really, really does. He misses hugs and football and cleaning messy faces and staging naval warfare with added dinosaurs in the bath.

_‘…Yeah, okay. Hang on. Hey, boys, do you want to talk to David?’_

_‘He’s back!’_

_‘No, nene, he’s on the phone. Do you want it?’_

_‘Yeah. But you have to-’_

_‘I know, I know. I have to go away, no grown-ups allowed in the fort.’_

_‘No! You have to sit here.’_

_‘Why?’_

_‘To hold the roof up because it keeps falling. But you can’t listen.’_

_‘Okay. Do I get to have some pretzels for holding up your roof?’_

_‘No!’_

_‘Really? I think I should get pretzels for sitting here all afternoon with a blanket on my head.’_

_‘No! David! David, papa’s trying to steal our pretzels!’_

David laughs helplessly and really, really, really wants to go home.

>>> 

David wants to enjoy his last days before leaving, but he’s too eager to get back to Spain. His parents don’t seem to mind. He and his dad catch a match together, just the two of them. They sit in the cheap seats with sodas and pies like they did so often when David was a boy, and they’re surrounded by young men with their young sons. It makes David smile.

David can never make people who aren’t football fans understand that it’s not just about the game. David will always and forever think of his dad sitting next to him in the stands, wearing a twenty-year-old jersey and pointing out each player.

‘Your mum says your… _friend_ …might come for a visit over the summer,’ his dad says.

‘Yeah.’ David doesn’t take his eyes off the pitch. He can’t make eye contact if his dad is going to say ‘ _friend’_ like that. ‘If you guys really don’t mind putting all three of us up, Iker thinks it sounds great. You know. Get Sergio some travelling experience, get out of the Madrid summer heat for a little while.’

‘Right.’

‘And Iker’s really not a fan of Premier League football. He’s all about la Liga,’ David adds, and he and his dad share a pitying headshake. ‘I figure the best way to change his mind will be to just drag him here.’

‘Good idea.’

There’s a long pause, and there’s nothing much happening on the pitch at the moment, but David can tell his dad has something on his mind. He waits.

‘Your mum was talking about taking…Iker?’

‘Iker, yeah. Eee-sound. It’s a weird name, I think his family might be Basque or something.’

‘Iker. Your mum was talking about taking him on a proper city tour, you know. Not just seeing Big Ben and the Tower and having a go on the Eye, but taking a day or two for the museums and the history walks and river rides. That sort of thing.’

David frowns. ‘Iker would probably like it, but do you think Sergio would be okay? I mean, six months away isn’t that long, and there’s no way he has the attention span for things like that right now.’ He tries not to imagine what a bored Sergio might get up to on a daytrip like that. He’d probably end up locked in the Tower or getting fished out of the Thames.

‘Actually, I was thinking you and Sergio might not come,’ his dad says gruffly. ‘I was thinking you might bring him here. You know, for a match. Just the two of you.’

David looks up, surprised. His dad is the one eyes fixed on the pitch, now, even though nothing’s going on.

This is their thing. He and his dad started coming to matches on their own when he was too young to remember- his mum loves Man U just as much as they do, but it’s always been _their_ time, sitting together and talking a little about whatever comes to mind. It’s their father and son time. Just like his dad with his grandfather, and his grandfather with his great-grandfather, and probably even before that.

And his dad wants him to start with Sergio.

If that’s not recognition of the new part of their family, and whole-hearted acceptance, nothing is.

David has to swallow before he can talk. ‘Yeah,’ he says finally. ‘Yeah, that’d be good. I mean, it’d be better if you came with us, though, you know? Make sure I do it right.’

His dad smiles. ‘You’ll do just fine.’

‘You sure?’ David asks. He’s not really talking about the football match anymore. This has all come on so fast, him and Sergio, and he sort of wants the kind of talk he knows his dad’s probably been quietly working on for years, just waiting for David to ring up with a family announcement. They haven’t gotten there in the traditional way, but they’re still _there_.

‘I’ve seen all those pictures and videos you put on our computer at least a hundred times now,’ his dad tells him. ‘Your mum likes to look at them over and over when you’re out of the house. That boy lights up like a damn beacon whenever he sets eyes on you, and you’re just the same with him. Keep loving him like you do and keep him as happy as he is and you’ll be doing as good as anybody.’ He pats his back and leaves his hand on David’s shoulder. ‘I’d like to come for the second one, get to know him a little. Not like I’ll get a chance at the house. If I know your mum at all she won’t let him out of arm’s reach for a second. But you’ll want that first match just for you.’

The whistle blows for a foul and they watch the bit of arm-waving and scuffling before the penalty is set up.

‘I’ll have to get him his own shirt first,’ David says. He’s thinking out loud, mostly. Imagining how he’s going to make this just as special for Sese as his dad always did for him when he was a kid. ‘He can’t come to his first United match without a proper shirt.’

‘He can use one of your old ones, if you want,’ his dad offers. ‘We’ve got them all saved in a box, the ones you grew out of. Figured you might want them- well. When you had someone that size to pass them on to.’

David grins. He’s wearing his dad’s old jersey right now, the one his dad wore for a couple years then gave him as soon as he got big enough. In six months’ time they’re going to be sitting here with three generations of boys and only two generations of shirts between them, and it’s all so revoltingly sweet and nostalgic- but David loves it.

>>> 

His mum is next. On his last afternoon, she offers to give him a hand in wrapping all his gifts for Sergio and Iker. He agrees immediately and runs upstairs and hauls the mountain of boxes and bags down to the front room.

David’s terrible at gift wrapping. Not because he’s sloppy or bad at measuring- it’s the opposite. He takes forever measuring the paper exactly right, getting all the edges perfectly lined up, and laying the tape on perfectly straight. If he had to tackle these all by himself, he’d be there a week.

‘You’ll need another bag to take all these back in,’ she says, surveying the pile. ‘I’ll send you with one of mine. I’ve got that great big suitcase from your aunt when we went on holiday to Greece; that should be perfect.’

David wrinkles his nose. ‘The red one with the paisley pattern all over it?’

‘You won’t have any trouble spotting it at the baggage claim,’ she points out. ‘And it’s got stiff sides. It’ll keep everything safe. Is anything breakable?’

‘Um…’ David pokes through the presents. ‘No? I mean, there’s a puzzle box I’d rather didn’t get crushed. Oh, and Iker’s hat. Can we ball something up to stuff in there so it doesn’t get flattened?’

‘I saw a scarf we can roll up.’

They work cheerfully, holiday music playing in the background and chatting about nothing David can really remember later. Neighbourhood gossip, work gossip, family gossip. His mum loves everything Victoria picked out.

‘He’ll look such a little darling,’ she sighs, holding up a pair of blue and white striped short trousers Sergio can wear in the spring. ‘I can’t wait to meet him properly. You’ll have to bring him in on my lunch break one day. I want to show him off to the girls.’

David grins and doesn’t argue, because he’d be a massive bloody hypocrite if he did. He loves showing Sergio off.

‘And I won’t let you keep him to yourself while you’re here,’ she continues. She picks up the _I <3 London_ mug David bought for Iker, the one he spotted in a service station where the _< 3_ is replaced with a map of the M25.

Iker had insisted that David promise to not bring him back any of the normal tourist tat. This mug, David feels, doesn’t count, because it’s spectacularly worse than any normal tourist tat he’s ever seen.

‘I’ve already got plans. I want to take him out with your sister’s little girl and your cousin’s children. We’ll go to the zoo and the gardens, and your father’s agreed to take us all for a row…’

‘Mum, he won’t speak much English, yeah? You’ll probably _have_ to let Iker and I come with you,’ David reminds her. ‘We’ll do our best to teach him some more but he hasn’t been very good at picking it up so far. Languages just aren’t his thing, I think. He might get frustrated and cranky on you if he has to go hours not being able to talk properly.’

‘Oh, your father and I talked about that,’ she says dismissively, and hands him the tape. ‘We’re going to get that… _Rosetta Stone_ programme, or something like it. If we practise a little every day, in six months we should be able to keep up with a six-year-old.’

‘I was going to ask if you wouldn’t mind me downloading you some podcasts like that,’ David admits. He wrestles the unicorn pillow-toy into as small as possible a ball and wraps it tightly in tissue paper.

‘Whatever’s best. Oh, now _this_ is nice,’ she says, and holds up the shirt Victoria insisted on buying for Iker to wear with his new tie. It’s a very slim fit and David fully expects that Iker will feel highly embarrassed, but look fantastic. David’s mum takes one sleeve and holds it out to the side to get a good look. ‘You’ll have to send me a picture when he tries it on. He’s got _such_ good arms. He’ll be straining at the seams in this one.’

‘Mum!!’

>>> 

_‘Hello?’_

‘Hey. I just want to apologise in advance for anything my mum might say or do when you come this summer.’

_‘…Why?’_

‘Because...ugh, I can’t. Just- don’t ever turn your back on her.’

_‘Okay. If we’re being fair, then, I should probably warn you about my parents before we visit in March.’_

‘Yeah? What about them?’

_‘Well, aside from the drag queen thing-’_

‘You still haven’t cleared that up?!’

_‘I keep forgetting.’_

‘Then write a bloody note! I’m not going out there if they’re expecting me to turn up for Sergio’s birthday party wearing makeup and a feather boa!’

_‘I don’t think they’d expect that. You wouldn’t wear your uniform to the party if you were a football player, would you?’_

‘So not the point, mate.’

_‘Anyway, aside from that, they want to take Sergio to a bullfight.’_

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake. Am I seriously the only one against letting a very young child watch an animal get stabbed to death?’

_‘It’s probably good I’m warning you now so you have time to make a real argument. If you put it like that, they’re just assume you’re weak and soft because you’re English.’_

‘Not because I’m a drag queen?’

_‘Have you ever met any drag queens? They’re tougher and more manly than you and me combined.’_

‘How the _hell_ would you know that?’

_‘…I have to go, Sergio’s calling me.’_

‘No, he isn’t, I can hear him singing. Iker! Iker!! I'm coming home tomorrow, you can't hide forever!'


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, happy belated birthday to mimi! Secondly, best of luck to everyone studying for/sitting exams. And I learned something new today- it turns out Sergio gets his fashion sense from his dad after all! Not counting the ever-present man bag:  
> The awkward scarf: http://i762.photobucket.com/albums/xx268/unamadridista/unamadridista3/marca2011-01-0203.jpg  
> The ‘preppy’ shirt: http://multimedia.hola.com/noticias-de-actualidad/2010/08/22/iker-casillas.jpg  
> The ombre purple star jumper: http://img.trendencias.com/2008/09/iker4.jpg  
> The WTF, I so don’t even know: http://img.trendencias.com/2008/09/iker5.jpg  
> And this one is for David’s mum, who I think would approve of the shorts: http://imworld.aufeminin.com/dossiers/D20111025/IkerCas-Toning2011-08-17-085659-ok-172921_XL.jpg

The day he leaves, David gets up early and goes for a run, taking the city in. He knows he’s going to miss London and his family no matter how ready he is to be going home. He promises himself that he won’t leave off visiting so long next time. Maybe he can come back for a long weekend in a month or two.

He passes a park and playground he grew up on and stops. There’s no hint of the sun yet and he has the place to himself, just a few cars passing out on the street. He loved this place when he was a boy. He thinks about Sergio and the way the lad flings himself around the monkey bars.

David hops up on the play structure’s platform and grabs the first slat of the monkey bars. He swings himself out, tucking his feet up-

-and his hands slip right off and he hits the ground with a thump.

David glares up at the bars. He brushes woodchips off his shorts and gets up to try again.

Momentum gets him to the second bar this time before he slips off.

David stares down at his reddened hands. He hasn’t got any calluses, he realises. He might have the built up muscles of a healthy gym goer, but somewhere between Sergio’s age and his, he lost the calluses on his palms and the real strength that let him swing around on the bars and the rings without any effort.

He’s become one of those blokes who just has to stand uselessly at the side of the playground, watching their kids play. This won’t do at all.

David stays at the playground, climbing up the vertical net and lapping the rings and bars until the rising sun is bringing a glow between the buildings. His hands and upper body muscles are burning.

He can do three nonstop there-and-backs on the monkey bars, though.

>>> 

It takes forever, as always, to actually get off the plane after it lands. David sorts out his backpack and gets his phone ready with Iker’s number on the screen while he waits. As soon as David’s out the door and heading up the ramp to the terminal, he hits the call button.

_‘Hello?’_

‘Hey! I just got off the plane.’

_‘Welcome back.’_

‘Thanks. So, yeah, you don’t need to leave just yet because I still need to go wait for years and years at the baggage claim, but I figured I’d ring now and give you a good heads up,’ David explains. The rippling ceiling and rainbow pillars of the airport stretch out ahead of him, an immediate welcome home from the cold, grey UK.

_‘Oh, we’re already here.’_

‘What?’

_‘We’ve been wandering around the airport since six-thirty this morning.’_

‘Why?’

 _‘Sergio got up at four and kept insisting we’d be late if we didn’t leave right away. It was easier just to give in,’_ Iker says, and now David recognises the sound of at least a dozen cups of coffee colouring his tired voice.

‘So you’ve been sitting in the airport for six hours?’

_‘He was really persuasive. And loud. Mostly loud. We’ll meet you at the baggage claim.’_

‘Okay, see you in a minute. Hang on, do I get one of those touching reunion scenes like in _Love Actually_?’

 _‘Sergio’s been bouncing off the walls for six hours and I need a nap. Don’t get your hopes up,’_ Iker tells him, and ends the call.

David shoves his phone in his pocket and strides along the terminal, following the signs. He picks up speed when he sees the rank of baggage carousels ahead, scanning the crowds, trying to pick out one tall dark-haired man out of dozens of them-

_‘DAVID!!!’_

Something _slams_ into David’s legs and he goes down hard, flat on his back on the floor with his arms flung out. His backpack goes skidding away. The wind is knocked clean out of him and he stares, dumb and gasping, at the beaming boy lying on his stomach.

‘You’re back!’ Sergio cries, and wraps his arms around David’s middle and squeezes as hard as he can, forcing out what little breath David’s managed to get back. He coughs and it sounds like he’s choking.

‘Hey, nene, that’s enough now, okay? Otherwise he won’t make it home.’ Iker comes into view, scooping up David’s backpack and slinging it over one shoulder. Old jeans, yellow hoodie, and scruffy hair, just like David always pictures him. He pulls Sergio up and grins down at David and offers a hand. ‘Was that _Love Actually_ enough for you?’

David has to blink a few times and shake his head to clear it before he grabs the waiting hand and lets Iker haul him up to his feet. ‘Jesus Christ,’ he wheezes. ‘Oh my God. I think I just cracked my skull on the tiles. The whole way here I was imagining a sweet little boy calling my name and holding up an adorable handmade sign or something, and instead I get Sergio trying to brain me on the floor.’

Iker laughs and yanks him in for a crushing hug. Sergio demands to be lifted up so he can throw his arms around as much of David as he can reach, too, and David grabs them both, all three heads meeting in the middle. He presses fervent kisses to both their foreheads and doesn’t care that they’re probably being stared at.

Iker just smiles and presses a kiss to his cheek. ‘It’s good to have you back,’ he murmurs in David’s ear. Then Sergio smacks a kiss on the other side of David’s face.

It’s disgustingly, terrifyingly sticky.

David sighs in resignation. He’s so happy to be back that even the routine of dealing with a grubby Sergio feels good. He heaves the lad out of Iker’s arms and throws him over his shoulder, one hand firm on his back to keep him from slipping off. ‘Sticky,’ he explains to Iker’s raised eyebrow. ‘Now he can’t smear his hands all over my stuff. You’ve been feeding him sweets to stop him asking how much longer ‘til the plane comes, haven’t you?’

Sergio pats his back. ‘I didn’t eat all of them,’ he pipes up, voice muffled in David’s shirt. ‘I saved you all the apple ones ‘cus they’re your favourites.’

Iker shakes his head and chuckles. When he looks back up, his eyes are bright. ‘I’ve missed you.’

‘I missed you, too,’ David says honestly. Behind his back, Sergio giggles and tries to hug him upside down.

Iker claps a hand on David’s free shoulder. ‘Come on. Let’s get your bags and go home. Your skin’s gotten even more pasty and English. You need some peppers and tomatoes in you.’

As they walk, Iker’s hand slides down David’s arm until their fingers tangle together, and tightens. David squeezes back. He missed this so badly in the UK, this tactile thing. It felt lonely. He twists his hand to hold Iker’s properly and hikes up his other shoulder a few times to bounce Sergio and make him laugh.

It feels _so_ good to be home. David’s riding on such a high he doesn’t even pretend to be annoyed when Iker snorts at his hideous red paisley suitcase.

>>> 

When they get to the car park, Sergio does not go willingly into his booster seat. He doesn’t want to let go of David. Iker’s Captain voice doesn’t work, and neither does David’s bribing. In the end David just wrestles him into the seat and pins him down until Iker snaps the buckles in place, and they only get him to stop undoing the buckles himself when David promises to hold his hand from the front seat the whole way home.

Sergio tries to get David to sit in the back seat with him, but there’s no room- it’s taken up by the enormous paisley suitcase. The boot is full of David’s other bags and the usual heap of junk Iker keeps in there: car tools, emergency kits, energy drinks and snack bars, empty cups, medical packs, an overnight bag with a change of clothes for Sergio, spare sports gear.

David tries to never look in the boot of Iker’s car. The mess is too distressing. Iker refuses to clean any of it out, though, because he claims he’s needed all of it at least twice.

‘So, about your room,’ Iker says, glancing over at him when they stop at a light. ‘I’ve got it all cleared out-’

‘Already?’

‘Yeah. Sese and Nando helped.’

‘Ah, child slave labour.’

‘Yeah, of course,’ Iker shrugs. ‘But they could only carry one box between them at a time, and I had to pay them in banana chips after every few trips up and down the stairs, so I don’t feel like I got a very good deal. Anyway, it’s all cleared out and cleaned, but we decided to leave it empty. I don’t know what furniture you want to bring in from your place or if you want to have a look at what was up there and see if you want to use it. And I thought you might want to paint. It’s not in bad shape or anything, but it’s the same boring blue I used when I was fourteen or fifteen. Sergio’s hoping you’ll paint so he can help.’

‘Yeah, I probably will. Thanks, mate.’ Somehow, David had managed to push the whole ‘moving in together’ thing to the back of his mind while he was in London. Now he’s remembered, he’s much more eager and less sceptical than when Iker first brought it up. Absence and fond hearts, he supposes. ‘Most of my stuff is second-hand IKEA crap. I’m not attached to it, or anything. I don’t have much anyway.’

Iker nods. ‘I thought so. You can bring whatever you want and we’ll find space, but the bed frame and dresser and everything I had up there was a hardwood set my dad got somewhere up north. It’s good solid stuff it you want it.’

Sergio kicks the back of David’s seat. ‘Papa wouldn’t let me get you a dog,’ he says grumpily.

David lets go of his hand to pat his knee consolingly. ‘It was nice of you to try, Sese,’ he offers. ‘But I’m at work and you’re at school all day, don’t you think a dog would get lonely?’

Sergio huffs out a loud sigh and grumbles quietly. Iker sneaks David a grin when Sergio isn’t looking.

‘Anyway,’ Iker says. ‘The point is, we were hoping you’d stay with us for our last few days before we all go back to school and work but you don’t actually have your own bed at the house yet. You’ve already slept on the sofa a hundred times, so I don’t need to feel bad about offering that, or-’

‘You have to sleep with us!’ Sergio announces.

‘-or,’ Iker continues, ‘Sergio would very much like to have us all in the same room for your first night back. You know, like…like we did at your flat, a couple times while we were staying over.’

‘You have to!’ Sergio insists. ‘Papa said so.’

‘Did he?’ David asks. Iker rolls his eyes, and David smirks. ‘Darling, you know I don’t want to be anywhere else,’ he teases, nudging Iker with his elbow and grinning.

‘Yep,’ Sergio nods. ‘Because I said I want to sleep with you and papa said he does too but we don’t always get what we want and so-’

‘Sergio!!’ Iker cries. He’s suddenly flushed a flaming red and David just gapes at him, mind gone completely blank. Iker darts a quick glance over. ‘I was joking,’ he insists. ‘It was right after you and I were talking about you dating Victoria, I was only joking!’

‘And SO,’ Sergio says loudly, clearly annoyed by the interruption. ‘I said if I would clean my room then I can sleep with you and papa said okay and I did so you have to.’

‘I only said that so you’d actually clean your room and I wouldn’t step on any more Lego pieces in the night,’ Iker tells him shortly.

Sergio’s jaw drops. He looks utterly, completely betrayed.

‘It’s okay,’ David says quickly, twisting around in his seat to face the back and shut down the sulking before it starts. ‘I promise I’ll sleep with you tonight, alright? Since you did such a good job cleaning your room. We can have a proper slumber party on the floor. You can show me your fort building skills. That sound good?’

Sergio considers this thoughtfully. He actually touches a finger to his chin and David has to bite his lip to stifle a chuckle. ‘Okay,’ he decides finally. ‘Papa, we need more pretzels for the new fort.’

‘We have lots of pretzels at home, cariño.’

‘Hah!’ David crows, and swats Iker’s arm. ‘ _I_ get pretzels. He likes me better.’

Iker rolls his eyes again. ‘Right. Hey, Sergio, who’s your favourite person in the whole world?’

‘Nando,’ Sergio says matter-of-factly.

‘Who’s your favourite grownup?’

‘Teacher Raul.’

‘Who’s your favourite papa?’

‘You.’

Iker throws David a self-satisfied smirk, but David refuses to take it. ‘That’s not fair. You’re asking leading questions ‘cos you know how he’ll answer,’ he protests. ‘Sese, who do you like better, me or Iker?’

Sergio frowns. He goes into his thinking pose again. Finally he asks, ‘What do I get if I say you?’

Iker barks out a laugh. David glowers. ‘Just wait,’ he tells Iker. ‘Ask him again after I’ve given him my presents. _Then_ we’ll see what he thinks.’

Iker shakes his head. ‘You just don’t know how his mind works. You’re his favourite something, too. You just have to figure out what it is so you can ask.’

David thinks for a minute as they drive down an avenue lined with orange trees, vibrant flashes out the windows. ‘Okay. Sergio, who’s your favourite English person?’

‘Harry Potter,’ Sergio answers immediately.

‘…Yeah, alright.’ David can’t really feel jilted over that one. _Harry Potter_ ’s even got unicorns. ‘Who’s your favourite…no, Fernando’s going to be your favourite blond, obviously. And your favourite footballer is going to be a pro. Um…’

Iker pats his knee. ‘You’ll get there.’

>>> 

Iker gets a little alarmed when he helps David haul his bags inside and realises just how much space his presents take up.

‘You spoil him,’ he complains, huffing under the weight of two duffle bags. ‘It’s bad enough that you reward him with sugary foods. You really shouldn’t buy him so many things as well. You’ll make him greedy and materialistic.’

‘They aren’t all from me!’ David protests. He drops the ugly paisley suitcase on the sofa. It’s the last thing to come in, so he unzips the top and starts divvying everything out into piles. ‘I told you, Victoria sent some stuff. And my mum put a couple things in. Besides, some of it’s for you.’

‘If you bought me anything with a Manchester crest on it,’ Iker warns seriously, ‘you’re sleeping outside.’

Sergio, who’s been waiting very tolerantly for them to finish with the bags, loses patience and tugs David’s shirt. ‘Come onnnn,’ he whines. ‘You have to come see!’

David hoists him up on his hip. Sergio hardly needs to be carried around, especially not at home when he’s perfectly happy, but David has weeks of missed cuddles to make up for. He kisses Sergio’s cheek because he’s close and he can. ‘What do I need to see, sweetheart?’

‘Your room.’ Sergio reaches out and twists his fingers into David’s hair. ‘It’s different.’

‘Yeah, I got it cut.’ David watches Sergio pull at the shorter strands. ‘Do you like it?’

Sergio shrugs. ‘Doesn’t look like me and Nando anymore.’

Iker crosses behind them towards the kitchen and ruffles David’s hair. ‘Well, I like it. It suits you. Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate, everybody?’

Sergio opens his mouth and sucks in a huge breath to yell.

‘And coffee is not an option for you, Sergio. You’re getting hot chocolate.’

Sergio deflates and slumps in David’s arms. David jostles him a little.

‘Why do you want coffee?’ he asks, confused. ‘You tried a sip of my coffee last month and you spit it back out because it was so gross.’

‘Nando drinks coffee,’ Sergio tells him sadly. ‘But papa won’t let me.’

‘Oooh. I see. It’s a Nando thing.’

‘Nando does _not_ drink coffee,’ Iker calls from the kitchen. ‘I keep telling you, Sese, Nando’s parents let him have a little bit of coffee in a cup of hot milk. I’d be happy to give you that, so you can match your beloved, but you don’t like hot milk unless the taste is covered up by chocolate.’

Sergio heaves a weary, long-suffering sigh. He lays his head on David’s shoulder and looks like the most miserable little boy in the world.

David kisses his hair and rocks a little because an unhappy Sergio is just the saddest thing he's ever seen, even if David’s having to bite back a grin because it’s fucking hilarious how in love Sergio is with Fernando Torres. They’re going to be the most adorably awkward teenagers ever. ‘Poor baby. Hey, I know how we can fix this. Iker!’ David carries Sergio into the kitchen and leans back against the counter, watching Iker stir chocolate into a pan of milk.

‘What?’

‘What about a mocha? A really weak one, with coffee instead of espresso? You could just make cocoa with a tiny splash of coffee.’

Iker pauses for a second. Then he tips his head back and groans. ‘Mochas. Why didn’t I think of that? I could have saved myself two weeks of whining.’

‘You don’t like going to coffee shops,’ David points out. ‘Because they’re commercial and hipster and crowded with strangers who might want to socially interact with you. Hey, Sese, do you want a mocha?’

Sergio looks up at him with an almost perfect copy of Iker’s sceptical eyebrow raise. ‘What’s a mocha?’

‘It’s hot milk with coffee,’ David tells him. ‘Just like Nando’s, but there’s some chocolate added in so you’ll like the taste better. Do you want that? So you can have coffee like Nando?’

Sergio immediately twists in his arms and hits Iker with the full force of big wide eyes. ‘Mocha?’ he begs.

‘Yes, you can have a mocha.’

Sergio squirms and wriggles until David lets him slide to the floor, and runs out of the room. ‘I have to call Nando!’

>>> 

After supper, Iker and David take the sofa while Sergio flops on the floor to open his presents. Sergio’s not all that interested in most of the clothes, but even Iker has to admit he’ll look adorable in the things Victoria picked out. He likes the Old Trafford puzzle and David completely ignores Iker’s glare and elbow jab. He likes the soft, fleecy Union Jack blanket and the colouring books.

He _loves_ the unicorn.

‘Papa! Look!’

‘I see it, Sese. That was nice of David, wasn’t it? What do we say?’

Sergio climbs up into David’s lap, clutching the unicorn to his chest, and gives David a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome, love.’ David takes the unicorn and undoes the strap under the belly. ‘Look, it can be a pillow, too, see?’

‘Cool,’ Sergio breathes, and nearly cuddles the stuffing out of it.

Iker’s not so thrilled with most of his presents. He throws the knockoff Burberry cap at David’s head but he’s clearly trying not to laugh, so that’s okay. He holds up the stylishly slender tie like it’s going to bite him.

‘It’ll look good,’ David insists. ‘It’ll all look good. I promise. Vic knows what she’s doing. You’ll look great.’

Iker kicks David’s foot and drawls, ‘Oh, she’s _Vic_ now, is she?’

David shoves the chav hat on his head and pulls it down over his eyes.

Iker likes the books David brought him, though. And his next cup of chocolate goes in the M25 mug, because it’s so wonderfully awful that even Iker loves it.

>>> 

Iker and David end up building most of the fort, because Sergio claims his job is to watch and direct. They push the sofa and coffee table apart and lay a couple camping mats on the floor, cover them in pillows and blankets, and drape more blankets from the sofa back to the table to close the whole thing in. Sergio darts inside. David crawls in with a little more difficulty. He rolls on his back and grabs Sergio around the middle, pulling him over to lie on his chest.

‘I missed this.’

‘I missed you too,’ Sergio mumbles, rubbing his nose on David’s shirt. ‘You shouldn’t go away again.’

‘How about I just take you with me next time?’ David asks, stroking Sergio’s back. He might as well take the chance to sound him out about a trip to London.

Sergio thinks about it. ‘Can papa come too?’

‘Of course.’

‘And Nando?’

‘His parents probably won’t agree, but we’ll just hide him in our luggage or something.’

‘Okay.’

‘Yeah? You’ll come back to England with me if we all go?’

‘Yeah. Can we go to the zoo and see the unicorns?’

‘Er…’

Iker pokes his head under the blanket wall and saves him having to answer. ‘Hey, you two ready for lights out?’

Sergio rolls off David’s stomach and reaches for Iker with grabby hands. ‘You have to sleep here, too.’

‘Oh, I’m allowed in now, am I?’

‘Yeah, Iker.’ David smirks and nudges Iker’s arm with his toes. ‘Come sleep with me.’

Iker, who is used to being taunted by small boys, grabs his ankle and tickles his foot until he shrieks.

>>> 

David wakes up to sunlight filtering through the red blanket above his head. He and Iker are on their sides, pressed close together, and Sergio has somehow wedged himself between them. Iker’s already awake and looping Sergio’s hair around his fingers.

‘Morning,’ Iker whispers. ‘It’s about eight. Nocilla pancakes for breakfast?’

Sergio, even though he’s still asleep, actually stirs at the word ‘pancakes.’

It’s brilliant. They’re all warm and close and happy and everything’s perfect. This is exactly one of the things David’s been missing. He grins broadly at both of them and leans forward and drops two quick pecking kisses: one on Sergio’s forehead, one on Iker’s mouth.

He freezes, their noses still brushing.

Iker’s jaw drops.

‘Oh, God,’ David says, and scrambles backwards until he hits the sofa. ‘Oh my God. That is so awkward. I’m so sorry, mate, I’ve been back home all this time with everyone talking about what a great couple we are and then you and I were joking about it and I sort of just…forgot.’

Iker’s still staring at him, wide-eyed. ‘…Right,’ he says finally, and coughs. ‘No. Right. It’s okay. Um.’ He quickly eases Sergio off his arm and crawls out of the fort. ‘I’ll go start breakfast, yeah?’

David drops his face in his hands. ‘Yeah. Fuck. I’m just gonna go hide now. Forever. Okay?’

He can hear Iker laughing softly outside the fort. ‘You don’t have to be _so_ horrified, you know? It’s not very flattering. I mean, I know it wasn’t that great a kiss, but you didn’t really give me a chance, either. I don’t think you can hold that against me.’

David groans. Iker is never, ever going to let him live this one down.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really really sorry it’s been so long, you guys (but I did warn you!) :( Being out of school sucks. I have to actually plan things and find another job and cook food. Very demotivating. That’s why it’s been ages and all I’ve got for you is a poor short chapter.  
> You know the Word document for this is now 120 pages long? And ALL of my plot notes/reminders/bits-of-future-conversations for it are just 3 pages up at the top that I sometimes remember to look at. I need a better system.  
> Can anyone tell me what event/year/planet this utterly wonderful photo is from? https://instagram.com/p/2LHYY-BXby/ (the coats, the shirt, the ring, the jeans patch…!!!)

Sergio is usually up with the sun and wide awake once he’s actually on his feet, but the excitement of the day before- along with getting up well before dawn and spending most of the day running laps around the airport- keeps him sound asleep in the fort throughout Iker starting breakfast and David crawling out to go get dressed.

David has to dump one of his bags out over Iker’s bed first, because somehow nothing is where he remembers packing it, and most of it is distressingly wrinkled. He’s picking through the pile of shirts and jeans when Sergio wakes up.

‘PAPA!!!’

‘Good morning, Sese. Indoor voice, please.’

There’s a series of thuds as Sergio runs to the kitchen- and how can someone so small and light make so much noise, David wonders. He’s barely three and a half stone, but he sounds like a horse running indoors.

‘Papa, where’s David!!!’

‘In here, Sergio!’ David calls. He’d guessed Sergio would want him there when he woke up, but in light of the…

He’s not calling it a kiss.

It _was_ a kiss- a peck, really. He can call it a peck. A sleepy mistake-peck.

In light of the sleepy mistake-peck, David doesn’t really want to be standing in front of Iker in his pants and the t-shirt he only sleeps in because it’s washed soft but a little too small to wear out in public.

Not that there’s anything wrong with his belly- he’s quite proud of his abs, in fact, and all the work that goes into them- but he doesn’t need his t-shirt showing off a few inches of them when he’s just sleepy mistake-pecked someone. And he definitely doesn’t need to be showing off his pants.

Not that Iker seems to care, because he didn’t bother throwing anything on over his pants and t-shirt when he went to start working on breakfast. Of course, his t-shirt is much looser than David’s, and he’s wearing boxers, not briefs.

David jumps over the bed and snatches up Iker’s phone where it’s charging on the bedside table. He quickly texts himself a reminder to buy some actual pyjamas. He’s going to need them, living here. Not that he plans on mistake-pecking anyone again, but-

Sergio barrels into the room and slams into him, arms wrapped tightly around David’s legs, and he overbalances with a spectacular flop onto the bed. While David’s busy catching his breath and spitting out the sock he nearly swallowed, Sergio clambers up his back and settles down on his belly between David’s shoulders.

‘Good morning!’

David sighs, and twists his arm to reach around and pat Sergio’s hip. ‘Morning, Sese.’

‘Papa’s making pancakes.’

‘Not just pancakes, _nocilla_ pancakes. That’s pretty cool, huh? Even if he’s probably going to put bananas or apples in because he’s mad about vitamins.’ David rolls, waiting for Sergio to topple off his back before scooping him back in again onto his chest. Sergio quickly settles back down again, chin resting on his crossed arms. ‘What are you doing today, then?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You want to go to the park and kick a ball around for a bit this morning?’

‘No.’

David feels like everything jolts for a second. Sergio- _Sergio_ \- doesn’t want to play football? Sergio, the boy who’s convinced he’s going to be a superstar for Real Madrid and Spain? ‘You don’t want to play football?’ he asks carefully, just to make sure he has this clear.

‘No,’ Sergio mumbles. He kicks idly at David’s legs and pulls a wrinkled tie out of the pile of clothes on the bed.

‘What happened to needing to practise every day so you can be the best footballer ever?’

‘I don’t wanna be a football player anymore.’ Sergio keeps kicking lightly and winding the tie around his hands like the world hasn’t just turned upside down. ‘I’m gonna be a bullfighter.’

David sucks in a breath. Then he thinks of Sergio’s little ears and lets it go slowly, gently nudging Sergio off onto the bed so he can get up. He breathes in deeply again as he strides towards the kitchen and lets it out in a bellow that probably shakes the walls. ‘ _IKER!!!_ ’

‘What?’ Iker pokes his head around the kitchen doorway. He looks completely unconcerned. David isn’t impressed at all and he plants himself in the hallway, arms crossed over his chest.

‘Sergio wants to be a bullfighter?’

‘Oh. Yes.’ Iker waves his spatula and goes back to the counter where he’s chopping up bananas. ‘He decided that over Christmas when we were at my parents’. You remember he and my dad went to meet Alejandro Talavante? Apparently Talavante was really nice and friendly and Sergio kind of fell in love. Like he does, you know? So.’

David wants to hold his position, but Iker’s turned away to the pan on the stove and left it too easy to steal banana slices and a finger-swipe of Nocilla out of the jar. Sergio, with his sixth sense for sweet food on offer, appears suddenly next to his legs and waits patiently for David to pass some down to him.

‘Stop that.’ Iker swats his knuckles with the hot spatula and glares. ‘Wait until breakfast. You’re setting a bad example.’

David looks down at Sergio, who has three fingers in his mouth and Nocilla somehow already smeared over the lower half of his face. ‘Am I a bad example, Sese?’

Sergio nods solemnly, but he doesn’t answer.

David frowns. He reaches out and tries to pull on Sergio’s chin, but it doesn’t budge. ‘Iker, I think he tried to eat too much Nocilla and bananas at once and got his mouth gummed up. How do I fix it?’

Iker shrugs and flips his pancakes. ‘Don’t. It’ll stop him trying again later, won’t it?’

‘What if it cements and he loses a tooth picking it all out?’

‘They’re mostly all still baby teeth, he’ll be fine.’

David considers this. Sergio scoops up more Nocilla with his free hand and tries to push it in past his sticky teeth. ‘If I didn’t know how much you like being in control, I’d think you were a really lazy parent.’

‘I’m cool and modern,’ Iker says loftily. ‘Learning by experience. I read it in a book.’

‘…I’d really like to say something about how _not_ modern you are, but I know you’d just spend the rest of the day comparing my look to everyone famous in the nineties.’

‘You had your highlights touched up while you were in London,’ Iker points out. ‘What makes you think I’m not going to do that anyway?’

David looks down at Sergio. ‘Why was I so eager to come back, again?’

Sergio’s too busy trying to smack his tongue free to answer.

>>>

After breakfast, while Sergio is burning off the sugar by running circles in the frozen, muddy backyard and fighting off imaginary bulls, David finally goes upstairs to have a look at the attic.

Iker hadn’t exaggerated. It’s a big room, all open, and even though the ceiling is a little low, the roof of the house is flat so there are normal-sized windows and no steep pitches along the sides. The wood floors are well treated and the blue paint on the walls is faded slightly in a few large rectangles where teenaged Iker probably had the bed and a dresser or bookcase.

David’s only rented places since he moved out of his parents’ house, so he’s never painted a room before. He sits in the middle of the room and tries to decide on a new colour.

Iker wanders up after he finishes putting things away in the kitchen and sits down next to him.

David leans back on his hands. ‘What do you think for the walls, boring grownup beige or something or another blue?’

‘Not red?’

‘Hell, no.’ David scowls. ‘I don’t want anything that’s going to remind Sergio of…’ He waves his hands and can’t think of the word. ‘Toreadoring,’ he finally finishes in English.

‘Toreadoring? I don’t think that’s a word.’

‘Oh, shut up.’

Iker laughs softly and ruffles David’s hair. He pulls the strands out sideways like he’s checking the new length. ‘I like it,’ he says. ‘Kind of boy band, but it looks good. It suits you.’

‘Thanks...I think.’

Iker keeps running his fingers through his hair.

It feels nice, so David lets him keep at it.

‘Sergio wants honey cakes for after dinner. Want to walk to go get some?’

‘Sure. Let me give you a hand up, old man.’

Sergio, bundled up in a bright red puffer jacket (and sandals, because for some reason he insisted and David’s had weeks to lose what little resistance he’s ever had to Sergio’s pleading eyes), swings happily between their arms when they walk to the bakery.   David thinks about yellow paint, to match the sunshine that never seems to go away in this country.

>>> 

Fernando comes over the next day. At first, when Iker announces over breakfast that he’ll be dropped off around ten and Sergio squeals fit to break a lightbulb, David thinks Fernando’s coming to see _him_ , because he’s just got back. When he mentions this, and how touched he is, Iker puts him straight.

Apparently he and Sergio haven’t seen each other in four whole days, and that’s just too long.

‘I feel unappreciated,’ David says, and stabs a blueberry.

‘You shouldn’t,’ Iker assures him. ‘I mean, if it were anyone other than Fernando, then yeah, I’d think you were being unfairly undervalued, but it’s SergioandFernando.’ Iker runs their names together to become one word, one identity. David shakes his head.

‘We need a name for them,’ he says, ignoring Sergio by virtue of experience as the boy climbs into his lap to see if David’s yoghurt is more interesting than his own. Iker didn’t put cacao nibs in anyone’s bowl today, so Sergio slips back to his own chair in disappointment. ‘You know, like the tabloids do with celebrities?’

‘Hmm.’ Iker watches his son thoughtfully, completely unfazed by the dramatic sighs Sergio heaves every time he takes a bite of his chocolate-free breakfast. ‘Serfer? Ferser?’

‘Oh, there’s got to be something better than that.’

‘Fergio.’

David chokes and tries not to spit out his coffee. _‘No_. Christ, no. That sounds like it should be the name of a model for romance novel covers.’

‘Really? I wouldn’t know,’ Iker says innocently, eyes wide, and David kicks him under the table.

‘It’d be Nangio anyway,’ David points out. ‘Since Sergio only calls him Nando. Nanser, Serdo- their names don’t come out very celebrity, do they?’

‘Eh. We’ll think of it.’

>>> 

David gets a hug, at least, when Fernando comes inside, and Sergio allows him two minutes to ruffle Nando’s hair and let the boy inspect David’s new haircut.

Fernando eyes him critically. ‘It’s okay,’ he decides finally. ‘I’m going to cut mine a little bit, too.’

‘Only if you really want to,’ David tells him firmly. ‘Sergio doesn’t want to cut his hair at all.’

Nando frowns at him like he’s said something completely mad. ‘Sese’s supposed to have long hair,’ he says, and it sounds like it’s one of the basic facts of Fernando’s world. ‘Like a gypsy.’

Sergio gets tired of waiting, hopping back and forth from one foot to the other, and he grabs Fernando’s hand and drags him off to show him what David brought back.

Soon enough the boys are properly wound up and Iker kicks the three of them out the house with orders for David to tire them out while Iker goes over his start-of-term announcement emails in peace. He knows that Sergio would be willing to play football if Nando wants to, but he’d rather wait until he’s tackled the whole bullfighting issue head-on- he thinks a complete temporary absence of football from his life might help influence Sergio’s decision, if his panic over the lad facing down a mad cow isn’t enough.

He takes them to the playground instead of the pitch and races them on the monkey bars, because he can. When he grabs the last bar Sergio and Nando shriek furiously, still only halfway across, and he grabs their legs and wraps an arm around each waist to pull them down to sit on his shoulders. There are a few mums on the benches looking impressed and he catches a number of other dads looking envious. _Entirely worth the blisters_ , he thinks, and lets the boys clamber over him and swing one from each arm as he goes back to the start of the monkey bars, staggering under their weight.

‘When did you two get so big?’ David huffs, arms aching as he lifts up just enough to deposit them both on the landing of the play structure.

‘I’m gonna be bigger than Nando!’ Sergio shouts, and scrambles up to the slide.

David doesn’t think this is probably true. They’ll both almost certainly be tall, as they’ve both got tall dads and big feet for their ages, but Fernando’s definitely the lankier, broader-shouldered one.

Iker is two centimetres taller than David. They measured once when Iker called him short and David threatened him with a chocolately ice cream scoop. He thinks about Sergio, grown, standing two centimetres above him.

It’s awful.

‘You won’t,’ he calls up to Sergio. ‘You’re never getting any bigger than this!’

‘Yes, I will!’ Sergio yells, and throws himself down the slide headfirst with his arms outstretched. David grabs him at the bottom and hoists him up into his arms.

‘Not if I squeeze you too tightly for you to grow,’ he tells the boy, and proceeds to do just that.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just know that this entire story is outlined to the very last paragraphs, so I will NOT ever abandon it. Never ever ever. I just need more hours in the day :(  
> (cake would be good too)  
> (I’m going to go make cake as soon as this chapter’s done)  
> (but I’m supposed to be eating healthier so it’ll have to be the no-sugar-no-flour-lots-of-oats kind of cake :( )  
> Also, do you know how hard it is to try and work in the fact that Ramos is regularly absurdly, viciously violent on the pitch (but often in a bizarrely endearing way) but make kid!Sese not come across as a psychotic bully?  
> Loooads of very sweet month-old comments I need to respond to. I DEFINITELY read you when you sent them and they were the bright spots in my day!

By the time his holiday period is up and everyone else is back off to school, David still hasn’t got around to painting the walls in Iker’s attic.  He sleeps on his mattress on the floor because he doesn’t want to bother putting the bed frame together if he’s just going to have to move the thing for painting.  He’s brought most of his things over, though, one car-load at a time.  Iker helps him shift his bookcases and David finds places for things and puts them there, very neatly.  At first Sergio wants to help, grabbing things out of boxes and shoving them wherever he likes and messing up David’s tidy corners and symmetry, but Iker pulls his son up on his lap one night for a long, quiet chat. 

Sergio doesn’t try to help put things away after that.  Instead, he gets very intent on trying to keep everything in the house at right angles- including the leaves on the parsley plant in the kitchen window.  It’s impossibly sweet, coming from a boy who insists his toys are ‘put away’ as long as they’re mostly out of direct view.

They settle into a routine by the end of the first week.

David gets up first and goes for a run.  When he gets back Iker’s just coming out of the shower, so David can go upstairs and take his own (Iker claims he has to go first because David will use up all the hot water washing his hair).  Sergio wanders in around the time he’s getting dressed and chatters away until David picks him up, hauls him down the stairs in some unorthodox position, and dumps him in his chair at the kitchen table just in time for Iker to push his breakfast under his nose.  Either he or Iker- whichever finishes first- makes the lunches for all three of them, and David drops a kiss on Sergio’s cheek and leaves for work, with one last careful glance in the mirror he hung in the hallway.  Iker had no mirrors in the house except in the bathrooms, the slob.  One of David’s wall mirrors was in one of the first boxes he brought round.

Dinner depends.  Sometimes Iker gets to go home straight after the end of school, early in the afternoon, so he’s got everything ready by the time David gets back.  Sometimes Iker has to stay late for football practises, so David takes over.

‘ _You don’t have to cook,’_ Iker reminds him for the millionth time.  Sergio’s class is having a half day, but a last-minute donation to the athletics department means del Bosque, the school head, has asked Iker to attend the after-school budget meeting.  It will probably run very late, so David’s phone rings in the middle of the morning with a plea to pick Sergio up.  ‘ _Just call in a pizza or pick something up from the store.  Sergio probably likes it better anyway, since he’s used to me cooking all the time.’_

‘It’s fine,’ David repeats.  ‘I really don’t mind cooking.  I used to go over and make dinner for my mate Gary all the time before he sodded off and got married.’

_‘…Because he was unable to live on his own, or because you’re a very nurturing human being?’_

‘Oh, piss off.’

‘ _No, no, it’s not a bad thing,’_ Iker insists.  He sounds like he’s smirking.  _‘It’s nice.  I should have guessed with how easily you took to Sergio.  You shouldn’t feel like you have to hide that side of you behind the cool metro-hipster image.’_

‘You call everyone who’s trendy and annoying a hipster.  You don’t even know what a hipster actually is.’

 _‘I know they wear tight rolled-up trousers with no socks,’_ Iker says smugly.

David looks down at his feet and scowls as he stabs the _end call_ button, and throws the phone on his desk.  Stalking intensely to his department manager’s office makes him feel a little better.  David knocks and while he waits for her to answer, he pushes on the rolled hems of his jeans with his toes.

‘Yes, come in!’

David leaves the door open and doesn’t bother taking a seat.  His boss pushes her keyboard away and looks up expectantly.

‘Sr Beckham, what can I do for you?’

‘I was hoping I could leave early today,’ David says, trying for a sweetly hopeful tone of voice.  Sra Camacho had never seemed taken in by any of his charm before, but it’s always worth a try.  ‘Around noon, actually.’

Sra Camacho raises an eyebrow.  ‘Are you not feeling well?  Maybe a little jetlag from your nice long Christmas holiday?’ she asks pointedly.

‘No, no,’ David says quickly.  ‘No, it’s just that my- er-’  He can’t say ‘friend.’  Everybody says their friend’s in trouble when they just want to skive off work.  And she knows he hasn’t got any relatives in the country.  ‘My roommate’s son is getting let out of school early today, at twelve-thirty, and my roommate can’t pick him up so he asked me to.  Sergio’s only five so I can’t just take him home and come back.  I know I was supposed to have a chat with Finance about the new account you assigned me, but I can do that at home over the phone, if it’s alright.’

David crosses his fingers behind his back as he says it.  If he gets to take Sergio out of school in the middle of the day, then they’re going to skive off properly.  Arcade games and ice cream cones, definitely.  Finance can wait ‘til tomorrow.

‘Your roommate’s son?’ Sra Camacho says, sounding a little confused.

‘Yeah.’  Going off to pick up somebody else’s kid does sound pretty unlikely, David realises.  Maybe he should’ve gone with the friend-needs-help excuse after all.  ‘The school’s fine with it, it’s all official on paper that his dad and I have equal standing with him,’ he assures her.  ‘I pick him up half the time anyway.  Actually, I need to do a change of address, as well.  We only just became official… _roommates_ over the holidays.’  David almost stutters over the word.  It’s an odd thought, knowing that he’s actually going to be living with Iker and Sergio, that they’ve become such a basic part of his everyday life.  ‘Do I have to sort that out with you, or go down to HR?’

Sra Camacho blinks at him a few times, then shakes her head rapidly.  ‘No, of course not.  I mean, no, there’s nothing to sort out; yes, go down to HR to process any…changes…in personal status that might affect your taxes.  I promise that all information in your personnel file is accessible only by you, me, and HR, and if anyone makes any comments that you find inappropriate I hope you’ll immediately come to me about it.  It’s part of my job to take care of these things.  And of course you can leave to pick up your… _roommate’s_ _son_.’  Then Sra Camacho stands, walks around her desk, takes one of David’s hands in both of hers, and holds it, all sincerity and attention.  ‘I’m very glad that you felt comfortable discussing this with me, David,’ she tells him.  ‘I hope you’ll consider bringing your… _roommate_ to the next department dinner.’

‘Er…yeah,’ David says slowly, pulling his hand carefully away and backing out into the hall.  ‘I’ll see if he’s free.  Thanks.’

‘Common decency isn’t anything to thank someone for, David,’ Sra Camacho says gently, and shuts the door.

David stares for a minute at the wood grain.  _Mental_ , he decides finally, and goes back to his desk.  _Completely mental._ He texts Iker to tell him that his boss has gone mad, and yes, he can get Sergio on time, and they might stop at the shops on the way home so does he need anything?

>>>

‘DAVIIIID!’

It’s like having a dog, David thinks fondly as he walks into the daycare room.  A big floppy Labrador who goes spastic and overjoyed every time the owner comes home, even if they’ve only been gone five minutes.  He leans down and swings Sergio up into his arms before the boy can make light-speed contact with his kneecaps.

‘Hello, you,’ he says, smacking a kiss on Sergio’s cheek and getting a wet one in return.  ‘How was school?’

‘I went to Nando’s class again,’ Sergio tells him proudly.

‘Really?’  It’s hardly the first time.  David and Iker have a long-standing bet over how often the boys sneak out to each other’s classrooms, and how long they can hide before getting caught.  ‘How long did you get to stay there for this time?’

‘Nobody saw me except Nando until they all got their writing paper!’

‘That’s my boy.’  David wins the bet this week- Iker, who’s friends with the teachers and has optimistic faith, put him down for getting thrown out by the end of roll call.  He gives Sergio another kiss and a high-five.

Raoul, the daycare teacher, waves from the other side of the room to catch David’s attention.  He holds up a finger and raises his eyebrows to ask for a minute.  David nods.

‘Hey, Sese,’ he says, letting the boy slide down to the floor.  ‘Can you go play for a little bit?  I want to go say hello to teacher Raoul.’

‘I want to say hello to teacher Raoul, too,’ Sergio argues.  He’s not actually annoyed, though, because he’s too busy rummaging through David’s coat pockets to see if he’s got any sweets on him.

‘You’ve been with him all morning,’ David points out.  ‘Go on, go show those big boys in the courtyard what they’re doing wrong with their football.  And where are your boots?’

Sergio runs off barefoot into the rain-soaked courtyard instead of answering.  David waits for Raoul to finish with the parents he’s chatting to and tries to pick out Sergio’s drawings from the dozens tacked to the walls.

(It’s not hard.  Nearly all of Sergio’s have footballs, two small people, and two tall people.  Some hopeful drawings have a dog.)

‘Sr Beckham,’ Raoul says, coming up behind him.  ‘Thank you for waiting.’

‘David,’ he corrects.  ‘No problem.  Is anything wrong?’  David has his fingers crossed behind his back again, this time praying.  It’s been more than a month since Sergio’s brought home a note about ‘playing too roughly’ with the other boys (read: getting into brawling fistfights with bigger boys, then smiling so proudly and sweetly at the interfering teacher that no adult ever believes he started the fight).

‘No, no,’ Raoul assures him with a smile.  ‘Everything’s fine, actually.  I just wanted to tell you how excited Sergio’s been about you coming to live with him.  He’s been telling us about it nonstop since he came back from the holidays.  I think he talks even more about you than Fernando, now.’

They share a grin.  Nothing more needs to be said, really.

‘And he’s been very well behaved,’ Raoul adds.  ‘Very good at sharing, as always.  Very enthusiastic, very eager to help other children.  And we seem to have worked through the roughhousing, so he’s just been a joy to have here.’

David beams and feels thoroughly self-satisfied.  Of _course_ Sergio’s the best.  Raoul’s a good friend of Iker’s, and Sergio adores him, so David asks, ‘Is it wrong to feel really smug right now when he’s not technically my kid?’

‘He’s close enough, by the sound of things,’ Raoul says.  ‘Besides, I think it’s normal to feel smug about him if you have any hand in raising him.  Sergio’s pretty awesome.’

David holds up his hand for a fist bump.  ‘Damn right he is.’

>>> 

David finds Sergio with a few other boys, trying to play keepy-up in a circle.  Most of them can bounce the ball once on their knees or foreheads but it drops to the ground when they try to pass.  As he walks up, they lose interest in the game and split apart, most of them running back to their parents.

‘Sergio,’ he calls.  ‘Ready to go?  You’re soaked.  I’m going to have to towel you off before you get in the car.’

There’s another, taller boy standing with Sergio.  He eyes David up and down.  ‘Who’s that?’

‘He’s David,’ Sergio tells him, puffing his chest out.  ‘He lives in my house and plays with me and buys me ice cream.  We play football a lot.’

The other boy stares at David.  David lets him look, slinging Sergio’s little bag over his own shoulder and deciding not to put Sergio’s jacket on him while he’s still all wet.  Then the boy stares at Sergio.

‘He looks like a girl,’ he says.  ‘You look like a girl, too.  I bet you play like a girl.  I bet you can’t play football at all.’

 _Oh, no,_ David thinks.

Sergio pulls back a fist and socks him.

>>> 

‘So, you might have a parent conference tomorrow,’ David says when Iker answers the phone.  He’s making sandwiches with his mobile sitting next to him on speaker, and listening carefully for Sergio, who insisted he could take a warming shower by himself.  David left the bathroom door open and Sergio’s singing loudly, gargling occasionally when he turns to face the water with his mouth still wide open.  ‘And by ‘might’ I mean ‘definitely do.’’

‘ _Why?’_

‘Sergio punched a kid.  Gerard Piqué.’

‘ _Not again,’_ Iker groans.  ‘ _Why this time?  And where were you?’_

‘One, yes, again.  Two, ‘cos the Piqué kid said Sergio can’t play football.  And three, standing right next to them.’

‘ _Why didn’t you stop him, then?’_

‘Are you kidding?  He’s fucking fast when he lets fly.’

‘ _You might want to use different words when you explain tomorrow.  At the parent conference_ you’re _going to.’_

‘You’re the real parent!  I think it’s implied in the title that you’re the one who has to go.’

_‘No, I think that’s the benefit in coparenting.  I get to pick when he’s my son, and since he’s biologically mine I get first choice.  When he’s being a juvenile delinquent we’ll say he takes after you.’_

‘Why me?’

‘ _You’re the one with tattoos,’_ Iker says, in a very reasonable tone of voice.  _‘Between the two of us you look more like the one with a history of bar brawls.’_

‘No-one who’s ever seen you ordering me and Sergio around at the top of your lungs first thing in the morning would believe that.’

 _‘Hardly anybody else sees that,_ ’ Iker points out.  _‘Everybody else thinks I’m sweet.  Besides, I’m guessing you’ve left the lecture and discipline to me again.  It’s only fair.’_

David just snorts.He’s complete pants at discipline, and Iker knows it.  If David tries to take his toys away or enforce a time out, all Sergio has to do is let his smile droop and his eyes well up and David’s bundling him up in his arms, promising him new toys and ice cream for a week to make him happy again.

Something crashes from the bathroom, like Sergio’s managed to knock down every bottle and soap dish in the bath.  David sets down the sandwich spread and scoops up his mobile.  ‘Hang on, I’ve got to go.  Sergio’s trying to drown in the shower.’

_‘Let me know if he manages so I know how many honey cakes to pick up on the way home.’_

‘Will do.’

Sergio stumbles into the kitchen at this point, picking at his wet hair.  ‘David,’ he whines.  ‘Piqué spit his gum in my hair when we were fighting and I can’t get it out.’

David nearly drops the phone.

 _‘…shit,’_ Iker says.  _‘Hang on, I’m going to call someone.’_

‘Who can you call about gum stuck in hair?’ David hisses.  He’s already tossed his mobile back onto the counter and picking gently at the sticky knot, trying to see how big the problem is.  It feels like that Piqué bastard smeared a whole pack in there.

_‘Xabi?  My mother?  NASA?’_

‘You do that.  I’ll see if Fernando can come round to help keep him calm if the S-C-I-S-S-O-R-S have to come out.’

>>> 

Fernando takes the problem very seriously and sits quietly with Sergio, putting together one of the puzzles Sergio got for Christmas while they wait for Iker to ring back.  David’s mum, when he calls her in desperation, suggests rubbing peanut butter into the gum.

‘We’re out of peanut butter.  Would Nocilla work?  Or Biscoff?’

 _‘Absolutely not,’_ she says firmly.  _‘I think it’s the oils that help work the gum off.  You don’t want any more sticky, sugary things.’_

‘Can I put straight olive oil on, then?’

_‘Well, it can’t hurt.  You might try it.  Oil or thick conditioner, I know you’ve got some good expensive stuff.  I’ve even heard mayonnaise can work.  Rub it in and leave it for a while.’_

‘Thanks, mum.  You’re a lifesaver.’

_‘Don’t be silly, darling.  Now put the phone down so I can talk to Sergio.  I’ve been practising my Spanish.’_

‘Sure.  Hang on.’  He switches back to Spanish.  ‘Hey, boys, you want to say hi to my mum?’

They perk up, interested.  David clicks the phone to speaker mode and sets it on the table between them.  ‘Here you go.  She only knows a little bit of Spanish, okay?  So you need to speak slowly, and practise your English words.  Mum?  Here he is.  His best friend Fernando is here, too.  I’ve told you about him.’  David says the last part in English.  The boys lean forward and shout loudly, in accented English, ‘HELLOOO!’

‘ _Buenos días,’_ his mum replies.  She sounds thrilled.  David gathers jars from the kitchen and sits with Sergio on his lap, listening to his mum and his boys chat.

>>> 

          _My mother says try fish oil_

My mum said olive oil same thing right

          _Smells better, is it working? Xabi’s sitting next to me looking things up, he says try toothpaste_

Dont know yet

          Seriously toothpaste

          What does nasa say

          _I left a voicemail_

>>> 

David thanks his mother, Xabi, and every god in existence when some combination in the mass of gunk he’s rubbed into Sergio’s hair slicks the way to pull the gum out.  Even though the scissors aren’t needed, David has to tug and comb pretty hard, so Sergio’s still miserable.  It doesn't help that he smells like an old lunchbox.

‘I want paella for dinner,’ he whines unhappily.

‘I’ll make you paella.’

‘And I want churros and chocolate.’

‘We’ll get you churros and chocolate.  Nando, you can stay and have paella and churros, too.’

Fernando nods.  He’s sitting in the tub with Sergio, carefully picking out tiny bits of gum from the smaller strands David hands him to help with.  David sits on the tub side, concentrating on the bigger mess.

‘And I want a puppy.’

‘Don’t push your luck, kid.’

Sergio’s got his back to him, so he can’t pull the eyes.  David can hold firm.  He gives Sergio a minute to clean his face of smeared oil and toothpaste and texts Iker.

          Omfg its working

          _Which one?_

Dont know but i dont think were going to have to cut anythng

_I love you i owe you everything in the world forever seriously_

Actually we owe s&n paella, churros w/ chocco & a puppy

          And bfore you complain think what hed be demanding if wed had to cut!!!

          Also were out of peanut butter & toothpaste

          _Worth it_

_Seriously do you know what happened last time i had to cut pitch out of sese’s hair_

_It was armageddon_

_O_O_


End file.
